She hasn’t seen one of those since she was a little girl. The waves are muted by the structure so there is only the barest tug at the pantaloons of her bathing costume. The ocean is cool, but a welcome relief from the summer heat. Thank heavens Ben suggested a trip to Brighton. The stony shore is so refreshingly novel compared to the beach at home. A shadow passes across the ceiling of the little box as a bird wheels overhead. Ginger closes her eyes and relaxes into the embrace of the ocean. It supports her, while the bathing costume pulls her down, encouraging her to sink into the waves. “Oh.” Ginger raised her head and turned to look around the canvas. “I’m dreaming. Ben?” “Here.” His shadow appeared on the outside of the canvas. She sighed. It had been too much to hope that Ben would be restored to lucidity just because it was a lucid dream. Still, she reached for the door to step out of the canvas. “I wouldn’t.” His silhouette bent its head, a bead of water dripping from his curls.
