In Dreams

Today I awoke from a dream at 4:00 AM. It was similar to a recurring dream that I have had dozens of times. The dream includes myself and a small group, often two others, wading and walking down the banks of the most perfect trout stream you could have ever ordered up from God.

This stream is actually a medium sized river, about 75 feet across (almost a long cast wide) and runs between several inches and 7-8 feet deep. It's shallow enough to wade, but deep enough to drown you if you're not careful. The river is cold, but not freezing. The bright green weeds on the dark gray bottom are broken up by rocks about the size of footballs. There is no mud, silt or sand. The weather is in the high 70's and we are comfortable wading up to our waists most of the day. The bankside runs are shaded by mature pines, spruces, and hemlocks. It's warm enough for short sleeves, probably late Spring. Perfect.

We cast long perfect shots with our fly rods, mending our lines against the current to get the flies deep (we're often casting streamers.) Roughly one out of about every 30 casts produces a fish. There is plenty of time between hookups to talk about nothing in particular, including what's probably around the next bend. None of us can believe how perfectly wonderful this river is, and that's mainly the conversation topic.

My faceless companions in the dreams are always guys. I cant place exactly who they are, but sometimes they seem to be my Father and a few friends from today and long ago. One thing is constant, they are trusted peers, and they know that they are in a special place.

There is no hooting or hollering. There's no loud music or cars driving down the road by the riverside, only the sound of the falling water and the occasional joking prod or friendly remark from a fellow fisherman. Sometimes one of us us singing or whistling a tune. It's perfect in every way.

When a fish is caught, it is most often a rainbow trout in the range of 16-20 inches. Thick and shiny, these fish come to the net after long fights sometimes involving aerial acrobatics. It is wonderful. We release the fish after everyone has a chance to inspect them, and marvel at their beauty and strength. They swim slowly away to their hiding places, unharmed.

The day seems to never end as we fish a section, hop out and hike to the next, and slide in for another round.

I wake up. It's morning, and I'm smiling, thinking about the river in my dreams. I'll visit it again one day soon. Photo note: I'm fairly sure my dream river draws many of its features from the Thorne River on Prince of Wales Island near Ketchikan, AK. Chris Stock, Azim Surka and I visited there in 2001 for several days. I will never forget it, and will return when my son Cash is old enough to wade up to his waist.