Alone

In the dream, he was in a boat with his family: his son and daughter, his brother and sisters, his mother and father. He sat in the bow in the sunshine with his children as the long wooden boat cut through frothy waves in blue-green water.

Above the noise of the motor and the sound of the sea, they talked about his plan to live with his children on a deserted island. He felt no concern for their safety or well-being; he knew they would be cared for. It was a simple plan and he felt strongly about it. He could sense that his son and daughter were frightened by the idea, but they sat steadfastly by his side and bravely said how much they wanted to do this, too.

His family tried to persuade him not to go. His mother, a decade dead in real life but young and pretty in the boat, told him there would be no food on the island. His father, ageless, smoked a pipe and talked about the difficulty of building shelter without any tools. His brother drove the boat, and his sisters looked sad and told him he could not do this, they would miss him too much.

When they arrived at the island and his brother beached the boat, the front end broke away and separated, leaving him and his son and his daughter sitting on the wooden bench in the bow as it settled onto the pristine white sand as the rest of the boat drifted backward into the churning surf. He could not see the island behind him, only the sand beneath his dangling feet, the surf, and the boat drifting away. "We could go back home and eat first," his daughter said, and then she began to cry. His son wondered aloud if there were wild animals on the island.

"Come back," he called to his family, and they did, silently, and the boat reconnected to the bow and become whole again. As his brother gunned the motor and cut a wide arc through the bright water, sending a rooster tail of white spume high into the air, as his son and daughter huddled near him, as he saw the smiles on the faces of his mother and sisters, he looked back at the island and knew this was wrong.

He should have stayed, alone. Going to the island was not the mistake; his error had been taking the children with him.

"Take me back," he thought, but when he tried to tell them, he could not speak. He looked at the island and tried again, but there was no sound other than the roar of the motor and the rhythmic surge of the boat slicing through the sea. His mouth moved but the words remained trapped and silent in his throat.

No one on the boat looked at him.