Sophie has a recurring dream in which a giant wave looms over her, ready to crash upon her, yet she always wakes up just in time before she’s crushed. “The Wave” of Sophie’s dream represents a tragedy from Sophie’s past: her parents’ death at sea. Though Sophie seems to have blocked this memory from her conscious mind, it nonetheless haunts her in her dreams, disguised as the symbol of The Wave. If Sophie faces an enemy in The Wanderer, it’s this wave which won’t leave her alone—the call of a painful past which she’s forgotten but cannot break free from. Realizing what The Wave means for her—recognizing that her original parents are no longer with her, and thereby owning the truth of her own history—is the hurdle which Sophie must overcome in her journey across the ocean. Though she might not know it in the beginning, there’s a reason why she sets out upon the sea: to uncover the truth of her past.
The Wave Quotes in The Wanderer
And what I wanted to do was go on and on, across the sea, alone with the water and the wind and the birds, but some said I was too young and the sea was a dangerous temptress, and at night I dreamed a terrible dream. A wall of water, towering, black, crept up behind me and hovered over me and then down, down it came, but always I awoke before the water covered me, and always I felt as if I were floating when I woke up.
I was going overboard; I was sure of it. Underwater forever, twisting and turning, scrunched in a little ball. Was this the ocean? Was I over the side and in the sea? Was I four years old? In my head, a child’s voice was screaming, “Mommy! Daddy!”
It seems a hundred years ago that we were lobstering and clamming on Grand Manan and trekking around Wood Island, and it seems a hundred years ago that we were eager to get under way, oblivious to what lay in wait for us. I feel as if I have to start to love sailing again, because I don’t love it now. I just want to get to Bompie and forget about the ocean for a while.
I feel as if there were things inside me that were safely tucked away, sort of like the bilge down there, hidden under the floorboards of The Wanderer. But it feels as if the boards were blown off by The Wave and things are floating around and I don’t know where to put them.
And I keep thinking about the wave dream I used to have. What seems especially eerie is that the wave in all of those dreams was The Wave—exactly the same: the same height, the same shape. The only difference is that the wave in my dreams was black, and this one was white. . . .
I can’t get rid of the feeling that the waves of my dreams were all pointing to The Wave that got us on the ocean.
I reached across the bed and touched her hand. “Sophie,” I said. “Maybe that’s not Bompie’s story. Maybe that’s your story.”
Bompie whispered, “Sophie, he’s right. That’s your story, honey.”
Sophie stared at me and then at Bompie. She looked so scared and so little sitting there beside Bompie. And then she put her head down on Bompie’s chest and she cried and cried and cried.