There was a storm in the night, with wind, high waves, and much noise. It worked its way into a dream I was having, and it was so real and terrifying that I was lost in in for a time… The sirens warning of disaster were sounding. George went out to check with the steward about the emergency, and he didn’t come back. I dressed in my warmest clothes, gathered our medications, put on my life vest, and sat on the bed to await the next instructions. When the next alarms sounded, we were instructed to go to our lifeboat stations using the stairs. We were on level seven. George wasn’t back. Knowing him as I do, I was sure he’d been enlisted to help some of the wheelchair-bound passengers get to their lifeboats. I knew that 2000 plus mostly old people would never get out of this alive. I hadn’t said goodbye to the family, and I didn’t know where to find George. I was crying, and I woke up. The door to the balcony had blown open in the storm, and the curtain was caught in it. It was whistling and howling. I walked over to it – it was dark – and forced it closed. Then I locked it. The room was cold, and I was still frightened. Whose idea was it to take this trip?
We’d been awake most of the time since 3:30 Wednesday morning. It was then Friday night, actually early Saturday morning. We’d spent a day in L.A., 15 hours on a plane to Sydney, a day walking around the Sydney harbor, and a short time on the ship before we’d had “muster” where we were given all the emergency instructions that were part of my nightmare.
I haven’t figured out how to walk properly on a rocking ship. We are off to an interesting start.
thejanetplanet 