We have not had the earthquake I dreamed of, here. One, two, three.

I keep saying to the local land, please wait. Please. The downtown had an underground section, hollow beneath the sidewalks, from when we were a seaport in the 1880s and 1890s. We were the rival port to Seattle. The downtown is dug up, along a core street. I am afraid that if the earthquake happened now, we would lose the Rose and the other businesses.

Please wait, I say to the land. Yes, I am upset, but wait. Let us be gentle and wait until the street and sidewalks are put back together. Retrofitted for an earthquake. Though in my dream, we were not the epicenter. So though the dreams had no tsunami, I woke afraid.

And the recent dream?

I dreamed that I was hungry and looked for nourishment. I saw two woman, one in a navy uniform. They were downtown, admiring the fountain. The street that is dug up has a fountain at the end, with Galatea.

Instead of throwing a coin into the fountain, the woman in the navy uniform reached in and grabbed a handful of coins. She pulled them out, a mad gleam in her eye. The other woman looks at her, frightened. "What are you doing?" She stares at the navy woman, then runs away.

The navy woman turns, and walks towards her ship. In the shadow of the ship, huge and grey, there is a table with a tablecloth and a man sitting there. She goes to him. "I need drugs." she says, holding out the coins.

He jumps up. She now has frothy bubbles at her nose and mouth. I know it is infection. "What are you doing?" he screams, "I'm the commander! How dare you!" He leaves.

The woman is wandering down the street with the coins clutched in her hand.

The commander is in the admiral's office, crying. The admiral looks horrified and uncomfortable. "She had no respect for me," wails the commander. "She came to me, the commander, and wanted drugs. My sailors hate me! They don't respect me!" The admiral's facial expression is that he would rather be anywhere, anywhere, but in his office with the crying commander.

The woman is staggering down the streets, specks of the bubbles scattering in the air. She walks stiff legged. She could be mistaken for drunk, but I can see that it is neurological. Her brain is sick. Madness. She is looking for people, the coins clutched in her hands. I know that she will find people, she will spend the money, and they will be infected.

I wake up, frightened. I think of hydrophobia. But that usually is spread by biting, not droplets. Not by coughing or sneezing. And I have been trying to sort out a local cough, croup like, that is spreading, getting worse, my first patient back on December 30th. No one has died, but I am frightened. I have already had the infection, and very mildly. So has my daughter, and the ex-beau. So we are immune. But it is spreading and getting worse.

I have to think about the dream. The money is in the water. Water represents the unconscious. My unconscious is talking to me. What do the bubbles mean?

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