I had the most coherent dream I've ever had last night. It was all one story and everything.
I was driving south from Chicago across the border into Mexico for this neuroscience placement. I was going to be at a university for a couple years, doing research or classes or something. Once I got moved in, I was in Michigan, driving down with my parents to visit me. This is when I found out that I had gone through ten states to get to Mexico, not just over the border. Sometime on the way my Dad's car got these new seatbelt adjusters from this old woman, who came with us and sat in the front seat, in the middle, between my parents. The seat belts had a musical combination lock. There were three buttons and depending on how hard you pressed them you could play nine notes; you had to play the right song in order to adjust the seatbelt height. The combination (I overheard them talking about it) way “Ms. Morris” (or maybe “Norris”), with the letters in the name coded musical notes.
While I was playing with it, trying to translate the name into which buttons to press, I had to take my seatbelt off, and that's when we got pulled over. Mom led the police car down the highway for about five minutes because she couldn't figure out if the lights were for us; the car kept weaving in and out of traffic to get behind us.
We finally pulled over at this beach by a lighthouse on a cliff overlooking a river/lake and a city. I thought we were in the middle of the United States, but you could see Mexico from the water. The officer insisted that Mom had led them down the highway for twenty minutes and that we could all go to jail, but I knew it wasn't true so she let us off with a warning. While we were waling around the beach, or my parents and the old woman were, I played in the sand. As we were about to go, I found a place with very very wet sand, even though it was farther away from the water. I made a little ball of it in my hands, and it was surprising how it all held together. When I opened my hands I realized it looked just like a frog, not just in shape but in color and texture. I put my finger through it and it was still sand, just green and black sand, and when I squished it back into a ball it was an almost perfect frog again. I was time to go, so I hurried up the stairs to the top of the cliff, where my parents and the water were, and put the frog on one of the wooden shelves. There I saw dozens of other sand frogs, all piled on top of each other and left there. I made another one a little more carefully. When I looked at it I realized that this was the place where the world began, and this sand was the earth that was used to shape the first animals, and that if I could just figure out how to give it the breath of life I could make it real. I thought about the old stories I'd read or been told a long time ago, and remembered the different kinds of sacred water they used to make the first life: blood, spit, tears, and some others. I knew I could do it, if I had time and didn't have my parents rushing me to go. I knew it might have been the first time someone happened upon this beach with the knowledge and the curiosity needed to create life since, well, since the last time it happened, and that if I wanted to I could stay here and make a whole new world, or possibly many worlds, but I didn't even want the responsibility for one frog.
It took a long time to figure out what I needed to make life, and I don't remember getting back in the car, but I woke up feeling like I could get back to that beach if I ever wanted to.