Continuing, I said, “Layla was eight or nine and…”

In mid-sentence, Maggie eagerly interrupted me. “What did she look like?”

Smiling I said, “She was tall and thin but strong and had long, straight, golden-blond hair. Her hair was kind of wavy but not curly. She was pretty but not beautiful, kinda tomboyish, but in a very feminine way. She was very present and calm. We were very close, connected.”

“Wow, this is so strange and you’re remembering a lot of detail,” Maggie said.

“I know, it was so real, like we were there. I remember everything, the color, the light, sounds, smells, texture of the sand under our feet, everything. I think this is called a lucid dream. I don’t know, but it was as real as the two of us sitting here,” I said.

Maggie with a mouth full of watermelon said, “Amazing!”

Then I said, “This is where it gets really interesting, because all of a sudden Layla pointed towards the far end of the beach and said, ‘Look, Daddy,’ and as I saw what she was seeing in the distance, I was mesmerized by this glowing and constantly changing shape.