Daydreaming has always been a favorite pastime of mine. I enjoy involuntarily submitting to the spontaneous flow into subconsciousness. I revel in the abandonment of reality. And I savor the places to which these thoughts take me along the cerebral highway.
There are no places better to delve into daydreaming than islands. The sights, sounds and smells of these aquatic outposts seem to trigger mental sojourns of more vibrancy than the distant mainland. Perhaps it is the isolation of islands that enhances the experience.
I know that is true on Bonaire. This place is a daydreamer’s heaven, and I engage in it often. It can be as simple as the smell of a fresh rain. On this dry island, mixing water with dust takes me back to my days of living in the Chihuahuan desert of New Mexico. There is no hint of greasewood here, but the strong scent of earth and H2O are the same. And just about the time I am having recollections of the New Riders of the Purple Sage, the delicate aroma of a frangipani wafts by. That leads me to thoughts of swaying palms, island girls and ships at sea. I leave desert thoughts behind like a dust devil.
The sounds of the island also spark daydreams. This happens to me almost daily as I lay awake in bed after a night of dreams. The muted light of the new day flows through my shuttered window. I lay still listening to the sounds outside. A rooster crows Bon Dia. A tropical oriole sings its sweet songs. It has two distinctive tunes that are heard only in the days’ first hour. These birdland melodies sweep me into a continuation of a dream from the night before with my eyes wide shut.
And then there are the sights of the island that elicit dreams. It can be a tall mast on the infinite blue horizon. Perhaps it is an explosion of ballyhoo beings chased by a yellow-fined tuna catapulting its huge black silhouette above sea’s surface. Or maybe it is the subtle quiver of a divi divi’s leaves made by a wave forcing wind through a limestone blowhole.
So as the day ends at Sunset Beach my dog, Sparky, and I get one last daydream prompt. We are treated to a Green Flash, but this one uncharacteristically strobes chartreuse bands above the horizon for a good thirty seconds. The dog looks at me with “wow” in her deep brown eyes. I concur. We both sit there barkless and speechless. It has been an extraordinary day of down island daydreams and now it is time for night.