Awakening and I had misplaced my hat. Not on my head or nearby on the boardwalk board floor ground. The sea breeze slapped my ears; I shivered softly and sat upright. Oh! What a silly silly blunder I had just made with my thoughts. People do not wear hats anymore--such fashion has "gone out" as fashion does--yet somehow the licks of summer sun on my bald head felt just plain wrong.
Thirsty thirsty I crawled low along the boards towards the breeze, peeking my head under the wooden rails and finding the beach where I had left it yesterday. Shoulders hips toes I shimmied through to summersault with plump and dust my sand-cloud arrival. Home was this shore for sure. I had tried relocating a mere handful of times but circumstance always returned me. One slip whilst window mounting an air conditioner and three stories later I'd developed a fresh endurance for falling from high places, and upon recovery a bone-deep barometric addiction to salty thick air.
Thinking feet might fare me better I rose and shook some sand off my $3400 Armani suit, pushing my toes through the soft floor. No shoes? Weird. Once wetness graced my piggies, with my hands as cup-shaped as could be reasonably managed in this slice of time I collected a tiny fragment of God's beautiful ocean for myself, raised it to my lips and imbibed; Swallowed, then realized with annoyance it was salt water. In desperation, I scooped some bubbly brine and after applying the foam liberally around my mouth laughed a hearty HOHOHO like Santa Claus. That made me feel better, filled alight in every pore with the jovial eminance of Christmas cheer.
Yet as quick as it arrived, so it departed whilst the bubbles slid off my face. The rollercoaster of human emotion had reached peak and plunged trough-ward, as per its programming. A vacuous dread deep down in my bowels manifested gripping at the knees pulled tight and tethered me splashed taut to the tideline. The endless horizon took my eyes; the hazy distant waters waved at me, reminding of my insignificance, speaking to me. You gaze out here and see nothing, because nothing is all there is. All that is is scale and perception. Your human comprehension of the universe caps out but so far as your knees into my depths. I cried fetal crippled for an hour.
Recovering and realizing I must arrive for tea, since I was expected promptly at 3pm, and judging by the sun above I maybe had but half an hour for the mile-long trip, directed west-southwest toward the gazebo I lamented my poor lost shoes but continued, jumping grabbing and pulling myself up to squeeze head shoulders hips toes back under the wooden board rails--quite a bit more laborous than falling. If I could merely fall upwards this world would be my oyster. I'd rise to rule mountaintops like ancient kings.
The grass blades inland past the boards were friendly to my feet, though hot. How was I to conduct myself at this meeting... These were savvy professionals. Such an excited written reply to my pitch was a rarity from this group and "proved promising" according to my associate. The horizon was splattered with distant buildings' forms of vague blocks. "Lucrative" and "innovative" were some of the words dropped, with the group citing questions of execution and marketability as the focus of the meeting. My legs at a steady pace--right-left-right-left. This shiny golden opportunity before me ignited my entrpreneurial spirit as my arms pantomimed my presentation. "But if you like that! You'll LOVE this!" I told the wind, making a rightward "C". "And that's just the half of it!" The birds that cried above and swept around in circles seemed unimpressed with the proposal.
The grass dampened and then turned to mud. Above the mud came a layer of water. The water rose up the shins toward the knees. The mud sloped away and left me swimming.
My distractions smoothed this transition of terrain so much so that it was only with an exaggerated finger gun motion to my phantom product--which underwater was not swift and impactful as the routine demanded--that I realized I had begun swimming. My breaststroke was rusty. I could not remember where I was supposed to hold my head--above water, in the water, mouth submerged with nose above, eyes above nose mouth submerged, or what--and when I was supposed to breathe. Cycling through these forms in experimentation, for efficiency purposes as well as to know for future reference, I must have appeared quite spastic and silly. A fish not knowing how to swim, or a man not knowing how to walk.
The gazebo at last showed itself, a brilliant unmistakeable white, dead ahead perched atop the ten-foot rock shelf at the shore of the lagoon. Peculiar light glowed submerged about ten feet under the rocks, radiating orb-shaped and appearing blue-green through the water. Once my arms rested upon the rock shore, a riptide seemed to pull at my feet, causing a sensation akin to silk scarves dancing around my legs. Although tickled curious by this, I felt I would soon be late, so heaving myself upwards and out of the water's grasp I carefully ascended the rock wall, reaching the top after a few hand's holds.
I saw ahead of me, seated and chatting, what must be the company I had arranged to meet. A man on the left in a porkpie hat spoke and gestured with his pipe to his friend on my right, who nodded politely but was not verbally responsive. They seemed considerably older than expected, but a man's golden years are his own to plot as he sees fit, I supposed. Smoke and laughter echoed the gazebo as I entered. “Gentlemen! It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is xxxx, and as you know I am here today to offer you a magnificent business opportunity." And then without shoes or any of my materials, I poured my heart into the best damn presentation I have ever given.