My dream and where it would take me.

GCSE English

Maeve Mungovan February 7th, 2003

Commonwealth Essay Competition

Subject: My dream and where it would take me

Brain Storming:

My Dream is a boat I am terribly fond of
Write it in the past tense to give the impression of a memory
Describe My Dream using personification: red birch, comparison to older lady, adventurous, eager to carve through the water
Grandfather was very skilled in this domain, he had a gift
Passed on passion for canoeing and I feel certain passion for the sport when he gives me My Dream
Setting: Prince Edward Island, grandmother’s house, no specific time although indications may show it is set in modern times.
Reasons: keeping Nana company because grandfather passed away and I enjoy her company
Grandmother is becoming more aged, her wrinkles are deeper, an invisible creature steels her energy and she is forced to stay in bed for long periods of time. She reads to me and as a result I enjoy her company.
give background information on ancestors who were Native Americans and so it was necessary that they be able to manipulate a canoe quickly and quietly (surprise attacks)
Storm arises, wind is fierce and swells are great. I am very alone and although before I appreciate the solitude, now I am terrified
I feel blind, entirely helpless, requires use of new sense: touch and hearing
Fog lets up and I am able to sight a protected inlet on shore
I avoid the rocks and pull My Dream on to shore
I reach land and leave it up to the reader to imagine how I get home, not vital to the topic/plot development
I reach home, Nana is not worried, she knew all along that My Dream would bring me safely home

Plan:

Introduction:
Begin with a walk along the beach while describing some aspects such as sun, sand, wind, ocean etc.…
Then, I notice My Dream, impatiently waiting for me to let it spread its wings.

Expose to the reader my feelings towards canoeing: sense of

freedom, isolation from corruption of world, feel the presence of my

grandfather.

First Paragraph:
Mention setting, grandmother (Nana’s house)
I am keeping her company for the summer because she lives alone on Prince Edward Island.
Nana is an intellectual, she reads to me, I develop passion for reading.

Second Paragraph:
With some technical difficulty, I manage to slide My Dream into the water
Describe my grandfather’s gift for canoeing
When I was younger we spent long afternoons, in the shade of willow trees, with cottages passing us by
I would observe him, and he would observe nature (dolphins, eagles, rays, and turtles…)
We would always come back with an adventure to recount to Nana/parents

Third Paragraph:
Portray actual moment when passion began to surface
Namely, fifteenth birthday, when finally I obtain the canoe I always wanted to be solely mine, My Dream

Fourth Paragraph:
Discuss in three or four lines the purpose of Native Americans during their attacks by canoe: surprise
This required perfect skills that made no sound, a tradition that was continued in my family
I begin to paddle, first stroke provokes happy/joyful sentiments
No particular direction, wherever the wind chooses to take me, one should never contradict the wind, it is dangerous
One must canoe at ...

This is a preview of the whole essay

Third Paragraph:
Portray actual moment when passion began to surface
Namely, fifteenth birthday, when finally I obtain the canoe I always wanted to be solely mine, My Dream

Fourth Paragraph:
Discuss in three or four lines the purpose of Native Americans during their attacks by canoe: surprise
This required perfect skills that made no sound, a tradition that was continued in my family
I begin to paddle, first stroke provokes happy/joyful sentiments
No particular direction, wherever the wind chooses to take me, one should never contradict the wind, it is dangerous
One must canoe at a safe distance form shore
Family of porpoises approach (brings the reader back to theme of calm, beautiful sea, before setting up for storm “the calm before the storm”)

Fifth Paragraph:
Storm erupts, terrible wind and downpour, I don’t have any extra clothes, pull hood over head for protection.
I feel alone, vulnerable
Fear of My Dream capsizing

Sixth paragraph:
I attempt to imagine how my grandfather might feel
Put my faith in my boat and in myself, giving up was not in my nature.

Seventh paragraph:
I thought about my Nana and how worried she would be when she awoke
Perhaps she would feel just as alone/scared as I was

Eighth paragraph:
It was hard to paddle against the strong current, all my work would constantly be undone by the enormous waves
Mist lifts a little, I amble to distinguish a protected inlet on the shore line (no rocks)
Steer towards it

Conclusion:
the focus shifts to Nana’s house as I am entering
She knew that I would come home, only slightly concerned for she understood that I was similar to grandfather and My Dream would bring me home.

My Dream

The sand, greeted by the rays of the sun, was warm and dry under my bare feet. Drowsily, I sauntered along to the edge of the water. The wind played with my hair and the salty mist of the ocean kissed me gently on the cheek. I was suddenly aware of My Dream. She had lay there all night and seemed restless for the waves teased her as they hit her bow. How I loved to look upon her. My Dream was composed of red birch, a strong, durable, closed-grained wood with a very even, smooth texture. She had the grace of an elderly lady, yet vibrant with life and eager for adventure and company. Her inviting nature made it impossible to resist the temptation to slide inside and paddle away.

However, I could not stray too far from my dear Nana. She lived isolated from society on the north shore of Prince Edward Island and I had come from Toronto to offer her my camaraderie for the summer. Since the last time I had visited, I had noticed she had withered and grown grey. She had a fine sense of humour and so I enjoyed my time with her immensely. I adored the evenings where she would open a classical novel and read to me. This ritual had begun before I was able to read and as a result, I had developed a passion for literature. Oliver Twist, Tom Sawyer, David Copperfield, Bilbo and Frodo Baggins became my childhood friends. Then, her time spent awake grew precious. Her cot had asked for her company incessantly and she never refused such demands. Presently, Nana was resting and so would not miss me, but I would have to return shortly.

With no little effort My Dream glided smoothly into the sea. She has been in our family for many generations, yet then she was entirely devoted to me. My grandfather had patiently instructed me in canoeing. He had a passion for it. To most people the ability to manipulate a canoe is a skill. This is too delicate a word to describe the way in which my grandfather paddled. He had a gift. When he sat in our canoe, it was as if man and canoe became one. I can recall the many afternoons of solitude and tranquillity as we travelled along in My Dream. I had the honorary position in front of but facing my grandfather. I would study how calmly and skilfully he manoeuvred the canoe in all sorts of seas, and he would study nature. Although he referred to them as mischievous beasts, he loved the hawk that soared defiantly at high altitudes with its magnificent wings spread wide. His eyes would light up at the spotting of a group of Steller sea lions. They would flaunt their nautical capacities and then would vanish into the ocean trailing their hind feet or flippers behind them. We would invariably return home to Nana and to my parents with an adventure or a sighting to recount.

My grandfather had passed his passion for canoeing to me. I am most content when I am nestled in my canoe, gliding through water. Yet, I am not able to precisely pinpoint when this ardour had begun to surface. Surely, it was when my grandfather presented me with My Dream on my fifteenth birthday. He had sanded and polished her and her name had been repainted in gold letters. Rays of sunlight caused her to take on a youthful appearance.

My ancestors were Native Indian and in order to triumph in times of war, they planned surprise attacks arriving by canoe. Their rhythmic strokes were at one with the water as they urged the young warriors onward towards their quest. One could only have heard their breathing. Our family has continued to practice such faultless paddling. I placed one of the long, aged paddles, which had been My Dream’s comrade since her beginning, across the gunnels. I slid into the boat with ease. I did not have a chosen course, I would follow the wind. Many people endeavour to challenge the wind, but its dominating character will not tolerate such provocative behaviour. My first stroke was strong, steady and instantly I was euphoric. There was a certain distance one could travel from shore after which the swells were too large for My Dream to navigate safely. After I had reached this distance, I stopped paddling and lay in the abdomen of my guardian. I knew that the oceanic waves would quickly cause My Dream to drift into shore. A family of porpoises playfully approached. I had seen them only just last week. They had grown and soon they would venture off to satisfy their curiosity with the wonders of the ocean, whose manner, they would soon discover, was unruly.

Something wet brushed against my cheek. I paid no heed, until yet another splash landed on my forehead. I sat up quickly. A dark, ominous cloud had cast a shadow on My Dream. It had begun to rain and there was no visible land in sight. The waves whipped against the side of the canoe and the spray of the salt water stung my eyes. A fog enveloped My Dream and with a shock, I realized I had forgotten my compass. The wind changed direction numerous times. I was forced to adjust the direction of the canoe to avoid being capsized by the strong wind and high waves. I was entirely dependant on my sense of hearing and touch. I imagined this was similar to being blind. I had always loved to canoe because it offered isolation from the pressures of life. Now, alone, I was terrified. The ocean was quick to anger when a storm came to torment it. I pulled my hood over my head and hoped that this would keep my head dry. I could hear the downpour on the water and on My Dream. The sound was terribly loud and consequently I couldn’t think of anything else.

I tried to consider how my grandfather would have reacted if he were here. He had been an excellent judge of weather, and probably would not have gone out at all on that day. My canoe lost all dignity as she was tossed about recklessly. “We are here together, and I will never abandon you,” I shouted to My Dream, who was showing every indication of being just as nervous and agitated as I was. “I trust you,” I whispered because I understood that the only way I was going to survive was if I had faith in My Dream and in myself.

Suddenly, I had a vision of my Nana, sitting in her rocking chair, balancing back and forth gazing searchingly out of the window of the front parlour. Her face was melancholy and a tear paused a moment before streaming down her cheek. I supposed that she had felt lost and alone, just as I had in that storm. However, her cause was worthier for she had been frightened for me and selfishly, I had been frightened for myself.

The current was strong, and trying to paddle against it was laborious and strenuous work. Each time I advanced by a few feet, an enormous wave would undo all my progression. I wanted to cry but I did not have the energy and no one would have heard over the tumult of the storm. My spirits had fallen, I was wet, cold and thirsty. I looked down and a flash of lightening revealed my callous hands. I had hardly noticed that the heavy mist had slightly lifted, and although the torrent continued, the thunder had ceased. The shoreline was hazy, but I could make out a protected inlet. It was not safe to approach the shore anywhere else because it was rocky and would certainly destroy My Dream. I navigated towards it. The waves, having had their fun, let me pass with little trouble. Before My Dream collided with land, I jumped out and pulled her safely on to the sand.

“Is that you?” my grandmother asked as I gently closed the door behind me. I had expected her voice to be shaken and high pitched, as it had been when my grandfather had moved to Heaven. However, her voice was calm. I wondered why she was not concerned. Afterward, she explained that I was comparable with my grandfather in many respects. She had known that I would carve my way through the rough waters and that My Dream would deliver me unharmed to land.

“Yes, it is I Nana.” I answered.

Word Count: 1 439