Martinis at the beach at sunset.

A chiseled Hawaiian dressed only in a sarong and tribal tattoos lights torches along the sand.

Another martini [or two] under the stars.

We stagger back to our room and fall into bed.

I  dreamed about a little girl who wanted to sing me a song she’d written. The lyrics made me cry and I wondered how on earth such a young girl could be so soulful. I vowed to remember the words when I woke up.

But I can’t.

A woman told me how easily I tan.

I don’t… but I believed her anyway.

The rest of the dream was fractured and strange yet oddly beautiful.  There was something about a wedding. The bride was spectacular and her entourage was dressed in full Victorian garb and they were running in super slow-motion through a lush grove of trees.

I told them they shouldn’t be in such a hurry.