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.