Rick nodded, but said nothing. Tom looked at his friend for a moment longer, then said goodbye and disappeared down the hall. Rick stared absently at the carpet for a few minutes. Then he slowly turned to face the computer screen, letting his eyes run over the spreadsheet document. Its figures seemed to have no meaning to him. He picked up the paper he had been working from and stared at it blankly for a few moments. Then, taking a quick look over his shoulder, he minimized the spreadsheet and began searching again for his beach images. 
 

      That night, as he slept, Rick walked the beach again with his daughter Chelsea. It was the same stretch of white sand, the same line of palm trees, the same radiant blue sky, and the same clear green water with the reef and breakers and blue of the ocean beyond. He walked along at the water's edge, letting the tiny waves cool his feet. Chelsea ran along ahead chasing the sandpipers as they searched the sand for food. She would run into a group of them, laughing, and the birds would run hurriedly away in all directions. Rick watched them and smiled to see the chase. The birds' long legs moved so fast they appeared to blur. Occasionally a few would spread their wings and take a short evasive flight, then settle quickly back onto the sand, indignantly refolding their wings. The girl was moving away from him so he began to jog to catch up with her. At one point she turned around and began to run toward him again. He could see her happy face and hear her laugh as it was carried on the wind to him. 

      Rick woke up and was suddenly aware that he had been dreaming. The image on the ceiling from the clock read 3:32am. The dream had surprised him and had totally absorbed him in its clarity and detail. The passing of the dream made him deeply sad, but it did not cripple him as it had done the night before. He felt like crying, but knew the tears would not come. He thought about the dream for a few minutes longer and realized that he was fully awake. He quietly got out of bed and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

      He turned on the light as he stepped into his study and went over to his computer. He sat down before it and switched the machine on. As he waited for the computer to power up he let his eyes linger over the bookshelf that was against the far wall. On one of the shelves a large coffee table sized book caught his attention. It was about the islands of the Caribbean Sea. He got up and fetched the book, and then sat back down. Still waiting for the computer, he opened the book and began examining the photos inside. 

      At six thirty a.m. the alarm went off. The music from the local radio station blared for a few minutes until it woke Cathy out of a sound sleep. She reached over to nudge Rick and realized he wasn't there. Puzzled, she sat up and turned on the lamp by the bed. Seeing his side of the bed empty, she got up and switched off the alarm. Then she opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall.

      Cathy stood in the doorway to the study and saw Rick seated at the computer. He didn't notice her at first as he intently studied the screen. Around him on the table and floor were pictures and maps that had been printed off of the Internet. A few books were open on the floor next to him and in the center of the room a large National Geographic map of the world was spread. At one point he looked away from the computer screen to the world map and noticed her watching him.

      “Oh, hi, Honey,” he said, surprised. Then he grimaced and said, “I'm sorry. I meant to shut off the alarm earlier. Is it six thirty all ready?”

      Cathy nodded. “How long have you been up?”

      “Oh, a few hours, I guess. I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep.”

      Cathy moved into the room and examined the various groups of printed photos and maps. “What's all this about?”

      “Oh, just surfing the Internet.”

      “You seem to be looking for something in particular.” Cathy bent down and picked up a printed map of the island of Madeira. She looked at the map, and then looked closely at the other maps and photos on the floor and desktop. On one of the chairs was a photo album that was opened to pictures of their little girl. “Is this about that dream?”

      Rick sighed and nodded. “I had another one. It was on the same beach.”

      “What do you expect to find in all of this?”

      Rick looked back toward the computer screen. “I don't know.” He thought for a moment. “I don't know what I'm looking for exactly. But I feel like that beach is real. Maybe if I can find where it is, then maybe I can find some kind of answer as to why I'm having these dreams.”

      “But they're just dreams,” said Cathy. “It's not even a real place.”

      “Oh,” he said, looking back at her once again, “if you could only see it! Everything, the water, the sand, the sky, the trees, everything is in such clear detail. Even the taste of salt on my lips! I've never had dreams like this.”

      “But they are still only dreams. They're not real.”

      Rick sighed and turned back toward the computer screen. “I know that.” He paused a moment. “I mean, intellectually, I know that. But in my heart it is real. And Chelsea's there. And while I'm there, for that small stretch of time, is becomes real. And I'm with Chelsea. And I'm happy.”

      Cathy walked over to him, carefully stepping over the papers and maps on the floor. She knelt down beside him and put an arm around him. “Maybe you should talk to someone about this. I'm sure you could talk to Pastor Russell at the church.”

      Rick nodded absently. “You think I sound crazy, huh?”

      Cathy shook her head slowly. “Not 'crazy', Rick, but maybe troubled. I think it would help you to get an objective opinion about all of this. It might help you to look from a different perspective.”

      Rick nodded absently, but said nothing. He stared at the computer screen for a few moments longer, and then began to back out of the applications.

      “Well, I've got to start getting ready for work.” He shut down the computer and Cathy stood up. He moved past her and started gathering the papers that were on the floor. Cathy watched him for a few moments, and then stepped toward the door.

      “Tom wants to get together with me to talk,” said Rick.

      “That's good,” she said. “Are you going to?”

      Rick nodded. “I guess so.” He began to gather the papers again.

      “Why don't you leave those for later?”

      “No, I'll get them up now. I've got a folder for them.”

      “All right,” said Cathy. She watched him for a few moments, and then headed back to the bedroom. 

      A cold, drizzling rain moved in over the area that afternoon and continued into the evening. It was still drizzling at five thirty when Cathy turned into her driveway. She was puzzled to see Rick's car already there, as he usually didn't get home until six. She parked the car, gathered her things, and trotted quickly up to the house. The front door was locked, so she unlocked it and went inside.

      “Rick?” Cathy put her things down on the couch and began to look around the house. She looked in all of the rooms, but stopped when she came to the study. The photos and maps were strewn about the room again and the large world map was again spread out on the floor. The computer was on and been logged in online, but the browser had timed it out. When she noticed a map of French Polynesia in the printer, an anxious tension began to build in the pit of her stomach. She left the room and walked quickly to the back door of the house. She opened it and looked around the backyard.

      “Rick?” she called out, but there was no answer.