My Dreamful Reality

The ocean released its ambrosial smell of salty waters and leathery seaweed. I inhaled it all in, too much and too soon, and felt drunk in this heavenly place in that way. It was sunset time. The skies were painted mandarin orange with glorious cirrus clouds that marked the entrance to God's heavenly Kingdom. I stare ahead from underneath one of the enterprising straw-roofed beach umbrellas that are commonly seen in travel magazines. I see a blue sea, the one and only Caribbean, and it just happened to be calling me at that exact moment. I marched across the ivory white, sea-shelled sand, through the lanky palm trees, and across the sand castles built by the most dreamlike of children who appeal to their own imaginations to build such masterpieces.

At last, I reach the very tip of the shoreline.

The shoreline sand is squishier than Play-Doh. My toes sink into the sand that lies, bravely, before the entrance to the sea. I only try to be as brave as the sand when I dare walk further into the waters. I feel the tricky weeds on the shallow sea floor working their way to my ankles, tying them with double knots. I walk slowly through the gushing waters and the weeds, keeping my balance, just like the sand did. The bright water reaches my knees now. I stand before the waves, considered gentler than the ones yards ahead. I close my eyes for the dare to cut further, and I find in a matter of seconds, that I fail to withstand these heavy shore waves, nearly collapsing over on my side. It is no shame that the sand at my feet is victorious over me. It is only fact. When that one wave hit, I knew better than to keep standing in that knee-level water. I got away before the next wave could strike.

I take a stroll across the shore. Along the beach, not too far ahead, are small shacks that serve as shops that sell stringy island jewelry, clever knickknacks, and long, carefully wrapped cigars. One salesman offers me a free necklace with small pink seashells and beads as shiny as pearls. It looked like something that a lucky pirate would find in a treasure chest he'd been searching for years. I told him that it was lovely, and I gave him all of my thank you's, and continued my walk.

I hear gulls, trying to make songs of their screeching and whimpering sounds. They dive like professional Olympic swimmers into the vast blueness to rob fish. In the distance, I hear the soft, lulling batter of Caribbean drums, played by a man who has been playing the tune for decades.

I walk further and I spy with my little eyes something spectacular… sailboats! I lift my face up to give more clear attention to them.

The boats lay innocently on the beach. They were wrapped in silky white sand, like newborn babies were wrapped in soft, comforting blankets in either pink or blue.

I felt drunk all over again, because just the sight and thought of riding a sailboat was a magnificent one that I longingly wanted to experience…

There I was, on the boat, which came out from a misty dream. It was a sailboat that was one of the simplest of its kind, yet as mighty as the most well known vessels that you know. It was steering all by itself somehow, yet the true captain was the sail of course. I looked up at the blessed thing, and respected it for its gracefulness. The sail was a dove's gentle wing. It fluttered through the blissful wind and flew through the gleaming, turquoise waters. Its blessedness was equal to that of God's church.

The boat steered so that the wing leaned against the sun. It appeared shadowed, and it shielded my eyes from the achingly bright sun. And just after it turned, something happened that my eyes have never experienced before. Colors erupted from behind the sail from the celestial sky. Vivid oranges, yellows, pinks, and lavenders all screamed out at once! The sky arranged into a bouquet of flowers right before my eyes! It felt like something that came out from the storybooks I read as I child. These were the colors that we all have known about since we were children. This is what we've been waiting to see: this spectacular vision of tie-dye.

I continued watching in amazement. But to my great surprise, the colors disappeared. In fact, everything disappeared. The sea, the sun, and the sailboat.

I woke up, finding myself underneath the soft quilt of my bed. I didn't wake up to the gulls calling or the drums drumming. I simply woke up, knowing that my dream was no reality. It was a dream. How could it all be real? The sand, so ideal in incandescent color, the sea, with its friendly glimmer yet its massive, foamy waves, the sailboat, with its angelic wing and its "playing with nature" business, dealing with wind in its skillful way. And of course, the sky. The divine sky filled with colors unimaginable, even by the sand castle children. But as I lifted my hand in a yawn, I noticed a feeling around my neck. It was the lovely necklace that the salesman gave me for free. And then I knew, the visions that I had were not dreams. I didn't have to pretend.