In a dream, I stand on the edge of the world looking out to the sea. The curve of the earth, ever so gentle on the horizon, shines placidly under the sun. I see myself here. I am the water and the wind. I am conformed only temporarily as a ship passes contentedly across my skin; but once it has gone, I return to my peaceful sameness. Now and again, I am enraged, throwing about those ships that sail upon me. Should a ship weather my storm, it continues on its way, thankful for another chance at life. But, should a ship not stand against my fury, it sinks to my depths, to remain within me forever, a memory. In my dream, I turn and stand at the other end of the world looking out onto a frozen ocean, cold and formidable. It is impassible, this water, to all but the strongest ships. Yet, even the strongest must eventually give up the fight to navigate through the ice, and it remains stranded and abandoned, left to mar the surface of what once was water. Shivering, I turn back to the peaceful sea with greater understanding. People come into my life, each one navigating the essence of me, each one braving the wind and the waves. It is better for me to remain placid, lest, should I cause peril upon one of these, they would sink to the depths of my heart, to remain forever within me, a reminder of my storms. I would rather, however, be a sea with the occasional storm, than to be a frozen wasteland, through which no captain can pass; whose forsaken ship remains on the surface, a daily reminder of that which remains hidden to all.