I dreamt of a dolphin awhile ago; a dolphin and a young girl. It was a very short dream – more of a vignette than a story.
The setting was tropical, the sun was bright and the sea – probably a lagoon because it was very still – was so clear that I could see all the way to the coral reef and sand below. The colours in the reef were pinks, red, golds, white, soft blue, greens and pale purple; bright little fish flitted by sea-anemones in a coral garden on pale, rippled sand that reflected refracted sunlight.
At the surface a dolphin floated with just its top fin and the arch of its back above water. Little flicks of its pectoral fins and tail kept it in one place. Although I don’t speak dolphin, she told me she was very contented, enjoying the moment.
Astride the dolphin was a young girl, about eight years old. She wore a simple, blue one-piece with short legs and a plain, backless top. (It wasn’t the attention-getting beachwear we see these days, even on kids.) She was very brown with sun-bleached light brown hair, all back-lit by the sun so that she and her dolphin were haloed. The girl seemed completely at peace with her world, legs hanging in the water, hands touching the dolphin’s skin, eyes gazing at the horizon, lost in her daydreams.
I woke and thought how lovely that little vision had been and what a hope it promised for a future without evil.