Last Night, A Dream.

I’m floating in a Hawaiian ocean, belly up to the Trade Winds.  Hands up over my head.  Eyes closed.  Cocooned in the Pacific salinity.  The sun is the most attentive lover.  I can hear nothing under.  I feel everything above.  The current begins to calm.  I wonder if I’ve drifted too far off shore.  I open my eyes and look back to the beach where tiny people under tiny umbrellas poke out of the thread thin sand line like miniature willows.  It’s quiet where I am.  I can see hugely dark storm clouds in the distance coming up over the mountains and towards them.  It will pour on their towels first.  Maybe I should stay in the water where I’m already wet?  Let it pass?  The cloud is so big, I can’t even make out which way it’s moving.  West?  Southwest?  There are bursts of blurry plum colored thunder from deep within.  Looks like a fire's smoke.  I’m in awe.  I’ve never seen something that shade, a cloud so confident.  I hear the human oars of a backstroke coming up behind me.  I turn.  Benazir Bhutto has stopped her swimming 5 feet from me.  Her head bobs up and down in the water.  Mouth, no mouth.  Just eyes and nose.  Mouth, no mouth.  Just eyes.  She's paddling with her hands, keeping herself in place.  She's staring at me.  Her hand comes out of the water, she places her index finger against her lips.  “Shhhhh.”