The Island Of Dolphins | A Bedtime Story

In this episode,

We follow Elena on a dreamlike journey beyond the reef.

After a fall while surfing,

She's rescued by a dolphin and gently drawn toward a hidden island.

There,

Surrounded by calm waters and a pod of dolphins,

She finds the wonder and peace she didn't know she was looking for.

Before we begin,

Take a moment to get comfortable.

Let your body rest fully.

Feel the weight of the day begin to melt away,

Like footprints washing from the shore.

It's just after dawn.

The sky's pale,

Touch with faint gold where the sun's beginning to rise.

The ocean's calm this morning,

Not flat,

And the waves are breaking in slow,

Long pulses.

It's the perfect kind of morning surfers dream about.

Elena walks along the sand barefoot,

Carrying her board under one arm.

The beach is still empty,

Except for the occasional girl and the distant sound of waves folding into the shore.

Far beyond the breaks,

Just above the waterline,

She notices something unusual.

A small island,

Barely visible through the marine layer.

She saw it from her bedroom window earlier.

At first,

She thought it was a mirage,

Just a dark shape at the edge of the world,

But it's still there.

Real.

A little island of green,

Way out beyond the reef.

The water's cold when she steps in,

First at her ankles,

Then waist.

The kind of chill that can only be taken off by diving in rather than prolonging the agony.

But once fully immersed,

Her body adjusts immediately.

The pull of the current is gentle,

Rhythmic.

She lies flat on the board and begins to pedal out past the first set of waves.

The motion is steady,

Deliberate.

Arms pulling through the surface,

Legs kicking slightly with each push forward.

Every stroke drawing her closer to the deep.

The horizon opens in front of her like a canvas,

And for a while,

All that exists is the motion of the water beneath her.

She moves beyond the breakers,

Where the sea becomes quiet and wide.

And here,

Elena waits for the right wave.

The one that rises clean,

Just ahead of the others,

Offering that brief and perfect chance to ride.

There's nothing like this part of the day.

No phones,

No conversations,

No sound,

But the communion of the wind and the sea.

The board rocks under her like a cradle.

The light shifts softly on the water,

Silvery and blue.

The water's so clear,

She can see straight down into it.

Tiny fish dart below the surface,

Quick flashes of movement.

Between the shadows,

A set of waves rolls in.

She turns her board and begins to paddle with strong,

Confident strokes.

The swell lives beneath her,

And then she's on top of it.

She pushes her feet to stand.

Her balance comes naturally to her,

Like muscle memory.

She rides the curve of the wave as it crests beside her.

The sound of water rushing all around.

For a moment,

Everything's perfect,

But the sea changes without warning.

She doesn't see the rogue wave coming.

It's taller,

Stronger,

Out of rhythm with the rest.

It hits hard from the side.

Catching her off balance.

The board shoots out beneath her,

And she's thrown into the air.

Then,

Underwater,

The world is a blur of blue and churning foam.

There's no up or down.

Just movement,

Tumbling.

Her ears fill with sound.

The muffled roar of surging water.

Her body twists,

Arms outstretched as she tries to get her bearings.

A brief flicker of panic rises in her chest,

But it's muted,

Muffled by being underwater.

Time has slowed,

And then stillness.

She opens her eyes.

Light filters dimly from above.

She's suspended there.

Not quite floating.

Not quite sinking.

Just as she starts to move her arms.

Something bumps against her from below.

She turns,

Startled but not frightened.

Its body sleek,

Smooth,

Gray.

Its eye meets hers briefly,

Calmly.

It turns and passes underneath her,

Nudging gently at her waist,

Then again firmer this time,

Pushing her upward.

Her lungs are starting to ache.

She kicks instinctively,

And the dolphin is already rising beside her.

In a few moments,

Her head breaks the surface.

Air.

She gasps.

She blinks up at the sky,

Eyes adjusting.

Her breath's ragged,

But her heart's beginning to steady again.

Each breath making her feel more calm.

The dolphin surfaces too just a few feet away.

It circles once,

Then swims towards shore.

Pausing now and then as if waiting for her to follow.

Elena floats on her back for a moment,

Letting the swell carry her.

Then she begins to paddle slowly,

Following the dolphin.

The water's calmer now,

And within minutes,

She feels the sand beneath her feet again.

She stands in the shallows,

Legs a little shaky but grounded.

Her board's already washed up onto the beach.

The dolphin lingers close to the shore,

Rolling onto its side,

Splashing the surface playfully.

It seems unhurried.

Elena watches it.

A part of her wants to call out,

To ask the dolphin how or why,

But she doesn't.

Instead,

She just observes.

Elena turns to retrieve her board from where it rests on the sand.

She doesn't feel like surfing,

But she still wants to be out there,

On the board,

In the water.

More than anything,

She wants to be close to the dolphin.

She wades back into the water and paddles out again past the breakers.

The dolphin swims alongside her,

Quiet and watchful.

She sits on her board,

Not looking to catch another wave,

Just watching the dolphin.

Enjoying the strange,

Wonderful sense of companionship.

The sea rises and falls gently around them.

Then just as she's settled,

The dolphin dips beneath the surface and reappears in front of her.

It grips the rope at the front of her board,

The toe loop in its mouth,

And begins to pull gently,

Steadily,

Not back toward the shore,

But in the direction of the distant island she'd seen that morning.

The motion's slow at first.

Her hands holding on on either side of the board.

The resistance of the water makes everything feel heavier.

Slower.

She glances back over her shoulder once.

The familiar curve of the coastline.

The trees.

All seem distant now.

Like a memory,

Softening at the edges.

The dolphin doesn't seem in a hurry.

It moves in long,

Smooth arcs just beneath the surface.

Occasionally breaking through to breathe with a soft exhale.

Sometimes it dives a little deeper,

Its shape vanishing into the blue below.

Only to return moments later,

Like a question,

Answered in silence.

Alina watches the sleek,

Grey curve of its fin rise and fall.

The island,

Which had seemed like a shadow on the horizon before,

Begins to grow larger.

Trees.

Rocks.

A sliver of sand.

It's real,

And it's getting closer.

Alina says nothing.

She doesn't call out or question what's happening.

She trusts the dolphin,

Because it saved her.

The water deepens to a darker blue.

Another dolphin surfaces alongside them.

A small pod forms,

Swimming near her board.

She sees their dorsal fins slicing the water.

And here's the occasional splash,

As one flips its tail.

They chatter in bursts of clicks and whistles.

One surfaces so close she can see the mottled texture of its skin and some small scars.

She doesn't feel like a stranger here,

Not at all.

She slips off the board and into the water,

Letting her body float beside them.

They don't swim away.

Instead,

They circle her.

Not tightly,

But close enough that she can see their eyes.

One passes beneath her.

Another rises beside her with a burst of bubbles.

One even flips,

Belly up,

Then splashes back down.

The lead dolphin,

The one who pulled her,

Returns and nudges her gently back toward the board.

She climbs on,

Water streaming away from her arms and legs.

Her hands grip the board,

Now warmed by the sun.

For a moment,

She rests her head against it.

Her hair clings to her face,

And her breath becomes slow and deep.

Not from exhaustion,

But from something quieter,

A kind of awe.

Soon,

The shallows rise beneath them.

She can see the white sand below,

And the seagrass waving in the current.

The dolphin pulls her the last short stretch until the board runs gently aground on a pale strip of beach.

The moment her toes touch the sand,

She feels like she's stepping into a place she's visited before in a dream.

The island's small,

Just a quay really,

With clusters of low trees,

Driftwood,

And some large,

Smooth granite rocks.

It's quiet.

It's very peaceful.

The wind moves through the leaves,

And the dolphins make soft sounds offshore.

She turns to look back.

The shoreline she left is no longer visible.

Only the ocean and the dolphins remain.

She doesn't feel lost.

She feels chosen.

Elena walks slowly across the sand,

Her feet sinking into the warm,

Dry grains.

Each step presses a little deeper,

The fine sand clinging to her skin.

The soft breeze immediately starts drying strands of her damp hair.

This island's barely more than a spit of land,

With a few wind-bent trees surrounded by coral shallows.

The dolphins linger close to shore,

Swimming in wide,

Lazy loops.

Their energy's playful.

One swims in slow arcs,

Then pauses and turns to watch her.

Another pops its head above the surface and lets out a curious burst of sound,

Almost like it's asking her to join them.

She wades back into the water up to her waist,

The warmth of the sun on her shoulders,

And the cool of the sea around her legs.

It's like being in two worlds at once.

A younger dolphin comes close and lets her place her hand along its back.

Its skin is smooth,

Smoother than she expected.

Then,

Without warning,

It dives and resurfaces behind her.

Another dolphin glides past,

Close enough that she can feel the pressure of its wake.

For a while she swims with them,

Trying to mirror their movements as best as she can.

Diving,

Floating,

Kicking softly to stay close.

She loses track of time.

There's only movement,

Light,

Water and camaraderie.

The shimmer of the sun on the surface.

The cool weight of the sea around her.

The gentle brush of a dolphin's fin as it glides past.

It's being part of something,

Wordless and whole.

Eventually,

The dolphins swim farther out,

But they don't disappear.

Elena floats on her back and drifts near the shallows,

Her eyes half-closed.

The sky's changed,

It's afternoon,

Tinged with gold.

She lies down on the sand,

Still damp from the sea.

The grains cling to her arms and back,

And the weight of her body presses gently into the ground.

And in the distance,

She hears a soft splash.

One last dolphin,

Rolling through the water.

She closes her eyes.

She's not worried about returning just yet.

The sea'll take her back when it's time.

For now,

She's still.

And the island holds her,

Like a secret.

Quietly.

Completely.

As if it always knew she'd come.