LIT BY FEINT ORANGE LIGHTS

It was still dark when he woke (Saturday), but a thin pale orange line was beginning to assert itself over on the horizon. Then some birds came and starting singing the line even further into existence, and he shuffled his bare feet through the dew heavy grass that made him think of the sea. Susie was still asleep atop the covers. He couldn't recall hearing come in during the night. He walked a distance toward some trees and then returned to the camp. He pegged back some flaps on the tent so as to make the most of any breeze that might consider them worthy of a visit, then lay down beside her. And it wasn't long before he started dreaming. He dreamt of Susie, who was playing the part of a primary school teacher, escorting her class on a special excursion. She unfolded a map and asked Louis, who was passing, for directions to the waterworks. She expected them to be somewhere more or less around where she was standing, though she did admit that her map by now may be long out of date. Yes, it appeared quite old, said Louis, but it still should be more or less applicable. It looked as if she had come over one street too many, that's all. He pointed her in the right direction, right behind the city's central gardens. She wanted to show her appreciation by making him a gift of the map, which, on closer inspection, appeared to be an antique. The place and street name script was unfamiliar, ornate, and in a language he kind of recognized and even strangely understood a little. Certainly the map seemed valuable. Louis thanked Susie and asked what she would be doing while the children were playing in the waters. Without saying another word, she took his hand and led the way. Lit by faint orange lights were the interweaving channels underground. After checking in their belongings with the concierge, the children streamed off in all directions, some toward the slides and wave pools, others to the flying foxes and waterfalls, each under the watchful gaze of their specially appointed personal guide. From a window above, Louis knelt behind Susie and watched the children frolic in the orange lit channels below, blessing the golden chance occurrence which poured up through his knees in a kind of sacred erotic prayer. When he woke again, he saw Susie looking in at him from outside the tent. I know just what you need, she said, and told him to follow her. She said they needed to talk. A nearby stall was just opening for the day and a few stray revellers could be seen wandering around the ground. He checked the day with her. Sunday, said Susie. Sunday, said the nodding Latino behind the counter making coffee.