Sneaking in

I was drifting along the other day, and I passed another of the seemingly countless islands in this little corner of the world.

I was in a reckless mood, and low on provisions, so I said "To hell with it", and poled my way into a secluded inlet.

Sneaking ashore, I found it to be a most pleasant landscape, with trees and fertile fields, some nice villages with pleasant people... and excellent wine.

I could tell that the people did not know who I was, or where I was from, and I surmise they must have known I was not from the Island, but I kept quiet about who I was.

I drank a fair amount of their excellent wine and fall asleep under a tree in the afternoon sun.

(I slept like the dead, and it occurred to me that this may be the first time I've slept on land since the civil war.)

I woke most vexed.

Perhaps it was that I had abandoned my raft for day, and had forgotten it so much as to fall asleep, but I dreamt terrible dreams about calamitous happenings that I rushed back to the raft in haste to make sure everything was alright.

Of course it was. I am not now plagued with particularly portentous dreams, and never have been.

Reassured, I thanked the islanders for their warmth and kindness, and put out to sea again.

I may find myself in these waters again, and stop off again at this lovely island.