We are going to a festival, gathering, event, by the side of a river. We are a group of several, in at least one truck and a van, arriving at the river side. We have kayaks to cross the river. My grandmother and I are on the fest side of the river, everybody else is still at the vehicles. I notice that the river is rising, in fact, it is flowing with so many old logs on top that I can jump from log to log back across the river. By the time I reach the far bank the flow has increased, it is lapping at the top of the cutaway bank. I scramble up ready to yell to everyone to pull the boats up and start the vehicles and get the hell out of there, and I see that they are already on it, the cars are running, the boats are tossed on top of the cars...except for mine, which was certainly washed away by the flood. And my grandmother, and whatever boat she used....I don't remember a thing about that, just that she was there. I look back at the river and the old logs have washed through, and now the river is a frothy forceful frightful brown and large cube-shaped boulders are tumbling by in the water, a malicious flood, a torrent.
I wake up.
I hear on the radio about a dramatic flash flood in Europe.
I go my day.
I don't realize until this evening that in my dream I left my grandmother on the other side of the river.
This grandmother died in 2007, August, just before I moved to Oregon.