By Howard Eskildsen
I had a dream. Our world was gently rocking in the incoming tide. Through the morning mist a seal and her pup stared curiously at us, while an otter played about our mooring buoy. The rising sun’s rays through the breaking clouds cast our silhouette on the shore.
The scene changed. We were cruising slowly through a wide channel surrounded by trees and mountains on either side. An eagle flew silently overhead, followed by another; both headed to where the channel narrowed and the islands seemed to merge together as one. Then a blowing sound was heard and someone said, “Look!” Our engine fell silent. Black and white forms, some with towering dorsal fins, surrounded us and splashed, rolled and dived about our boat. A giant face appeared just out of the water, cast its great eye in our direction, and then slipped slowly beneath the surface, making barely a ripple.
We drifted slowly with the Orcas, following the path of the eagles to where the channel narrowed. When it seemed we could go no farther, an opening appeared in the shoreline. The whales passed through and then we followed. We were in an ever-widening bay. To the left were scattered reefs and shoals, to the right, safe passage. Far to the south was the Emerald City and to the north lay the waters of another country that did not seem foreign. The whales had continued on without us, but we were with friends, some in boats, others not.
When I awoke, I realized that the dream had not ended, but was just beginning.
© Eskildoodle 2021