Shark Week: White Tip

I had five dreams in a row about sharks. I don’t even WANT to know why, they were all pretty terrifying.

We are trying to catch one particular shark, and have traced a bio-tag to a particular part of the coastline. My boyfriend is in one of those rubber dingy type speedboats ahead of me and I am being pulled along on a wooden pallet like some sort of awkward water skier. I’m lying flat on the wood and can hear vibrations from far below me coming up from what we’re referring to as “the basement” of the ocean. It sounds as if a huge man is climbing up a metal staircase underwater crashing into the walls as he gets closer to the surface.

We continue speeding along and after three seconds of complete silence, a huge white tip reef shark explodes out of the water, chasing the speedboat. He is between the boat and my makeshift raft, trying to rip out the motor and it is as if he didn’t see me, or isn’t interested in me. I have this odd feeling of fear concentrated in my hands and halfway up my forearms. I know that if I hang my hands over the edge and rinse them off in the ocean I won’t be afraid anymore, but every time I try to do so, I panic so severely I can’t move.

I sit cross legged on the raft facing forwards and if I squint, the boat pulling me along seems to disappear completely as if I’m pulled by the shark alone.


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