Last night I dreamed of floods. The waters rose and O. and I took refuge in a cave at the back of our house, which was set into a hill. It was just barely deep enough for us to lie down, facing outward.
We survived that flood, but later in the dream the floodwaters rose again. We saw them creeping toward our house, measured how high they would come, and knew they would overwhelm our refuge.
So we took to the hills, to the house my mother's mother lived in, with its apricot tree and walnut tree and apple tree and peach tree, and its blackberry bramble and its rose garden. In the dream we looked up its elevation on Google maps, and found out it was 465 ft above sea level. Good, I thought. When the ice caps melt, this will still be above water.
When I woke, my mind was full of mud and damp. But it is a beautiful clear day, and the sun is shining.
"Let everyone who is godly seek you, while you may be found. Surely when the mighty waters rise, they will not reach him."