Storms
I had one hell of a bad dream. Like you see the guy in the movie, waking, drenched in sweat, shouting, “Nam … incoming.”
Like that.
I was dreaming of Padraig, Sean, Planter, Ford, Sarah Henderson. Lined up before me, eyes black in death, reaching for me. No matter how I ran, they were always in front of me. I was screaming, “Leave me alone or I’ll drink.”
Came to with a shout. The sun was streaming through the windows, and I felt such dread as I had never known. Staggered outa bed and got a beta-b — fast. If I had known how to pray any more, I’d have gone for it. I said, “Se do bheatha, a Mhuire.”
The opening of the Hail Mary in Irish. Began to ease. My early schooling had been solely through Irish. Moving up a grade, we had to relearn our prayers through English. During the tr
