I'm actually having a pleasant dream for once.  That happens so rarely, really.  I used to never remember my dreams.  But lately, I remember them all too well.  I'm not sure if they're nightmares, but they're certainly unpleasant- crawling about a blasted landscape, strange beings brutally fighting one another to the death, and entire ancient cities of enslaved people.  That's what I usually dream about these days.  But last night I had a pleasant dream, about a day in the park, playing Frisbee with friends and falling asleep while fishing.  So peaceful...<br/><br/>Until the line starts bobbing, and when I reel in the catch, its screaming horrifically.  Its a high pitched, ringing cacophony that makes my ears want to bleed.  It sounds like a siren...or worse...<br/><br/>I sit up and smack my alarm off.  Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sigh and tilt my head back and forth, getting the blood moving again.  After a few seconds I stand up, peeling my bathrobe off the hook on the wall and then stepping into my tiny bathroom's shower.<br/><br/>The cold water is welcomed.  It wakes me up.  Some people hate cold showers, but I've been a lifeguard.  Once you dive into freezing storm waters to save a life, a cold shower in the morning is about as intimidating as a quadriplegic house cat.  The water also feels good in other ways.  It jogs my memory of something a long time ago.<em>Waaaay</em>long ago.  Back when I used to live in the water...<br/><br/>Its just a cloudy picture, but I can recall water as far as the eye could see.  Even before that, water everywhere- before land even existed.  But that's all...I don't recall how long I existed among the waves.  I just know that once that peaceful scene was gone, it got replaced by a vision of hell on earth.  That's what the dreams illustrate.  There are bits and pieces, here and there in my head reminding me who I used to be.  But its much easier to focus on who I am now.  Something tells me I'd rather not remember.<br/><br/>After forcing myself to step out of the lovely water, I wrap a towel around my thin, short body and step back into my slightly-messy bedroom.  It's still dark outside.  The clock reads 5:17AM.  I'm ahead of schedule, so I take a moment to look outside, throwing open my window.  It's a cool summer morning , and I can see down the street from my 6th story apartment, to where the beach begins.  New York beaches might not be the cleanest on earth, but someone has to watch over them.  When you're in the coast guard, all beaches start to look alike.  Not that I mind.<br/><br/>I throw on underwear, some jeans, a white tank top, and a red blazer.  I tie my hair back in a high ponytail, and grab my cell phone, wallet, keys and mace from the end table.  After munching down a quick breakfast bar in my 12 square feet of kitchen, its out the door, and down to my little ol' two door Acura.  The station is a good 20 minute ride, so I like to leave before dreaded New York rush hour gets too intense.<br/><br/><em>Wonder what they'll have for me today...</em>I think as I drive off.