Finn woke from a dream. A glorious dream. A kick-ass one. He tossed and rolled in the belly of his boat. If he kept his eyes closed, he could remember her face … just. Those green eyes, so cool he could drink them up. He’d been lying on the sand, holding her close. Gorgeous. He went up on deck to tell Tommy.

“Another dream!” he shouted to his mate. “A hot girl this time! Wild and stormy!”

“Yeah?” Tommy barked a laugh. “Sounds like a cocktail!” He made a sobbing noise as he thought further. “But we don’t even have any rum!”

“Maybe that’s why we’ve been dreaming.” Finn laughed with his friend. “We’ve had no booze for days … weeks! They should send people who need to sober up out on these things.”

Tommy flipped Finn the bird. “You might be in luck; think there’s land coming.”

“Finally!”

Tommy had the rudder under control, so Finn went to sit up at the bow. He looked out with his feet dangling. They were tacking left and the sails were far out. The full sun was in his face, obscuring any land that might be there. He shut his eyes again. He could go back to sleep right there on deck. He could dream of that girl again; she was still in his mind. She’d had petals threaded through her dark, braided hair. Perhaps she was an angel.

How many days since they’d seen land now? How much longer until they could get a drink? See a real girl? Act … normal?

The sun was turning his eyelids fire-red. He turned away from the sun, and his eyes fell upon the dog, still here, still black and white and goofy-looking. He reached out to scratch her silky ears and copped a lick to the face. She must have wandered onto their deck in the last port, maybe when they’d been drunk one night … the last time they’d been drunk. Probably the same night they’d repainted their boat with a different name and somehow lost half their stuff. Either way, Finn was pretty sure that the dog was a stray, but still … He really hoped he hadn’t stolen anyone’s pet by accident.

“Amy?” he tried again. “Sally?”

The dog stared blankly back. None of the names had stuck.

“Woofmaker? Bones? Snapper? Big Tongue?”

On cue, she lolled her tongue out. Then licked him again with it.

Finn shut his eyes once more. There’d been flowers in his dream, too. Beautiful flowers. Ones that smelled like the sweetest honey, or the strongest ganja. He hadn’t told Tommy that. So weird! It must be something about sailing—it made him dream so vividly. Either that or he was going nuts with the boredom of the endless ocean. Cabin fever! Salt madness! Here, there was nothing else to do but remember dreams.

He went back down into the cabin, the dog trailing behind.

“Not come to take over steering, then?” Tommy said as he passed.

“Nah. Back to bed.”

“Shithead.”

But when he lay on the hard bunk, he couldn’t sleep. Not even when the dog curled up close to him and gave him her warmth. Those flowers from the dream! They were all he could think of. Them and that dream girl’s eyes. The petals in her hair.

He started rifling through drawers and cupboards, looking for paper. Under the bed was an old sketchbook, with a few blank pages at the end. Where’d he nabbed that from? Who? He flicked to one page, found a pencil, and started to sketch.

As he drew, he could remember more about the flowers from his dream. They had been singing to him, promising him things. He’d wanted to eat them.

He smiled. He was definitely going nuts.

But he still couldn’t stop looking at the picture he had drawn. He wasn’t much of an artist usually, but this sketch was good. It looked just like one of the pretty little flowers he’d dreamt of, one he could almost … touch.

He snapped the book shut just to stop his endless staring. And a different piece of paper fell out. There was an old, hand-drawn map on it. On the back were words, in handwriting that was not his or Tommy’s.

*   *   *

You won’t remember. It will all just be something unreal, wild and strange. But dreams can be real too. And reality can also be just a dream.

Take my dog as proof of it. Her name is Adder. Remember it! And don’t let her soft touch fool you. She is fierce. Fiercest thing I’ve ever known. She comes from a wild, free place. Yes, sometimes, untamed places do exist. Sometimes mysteries do too.

Let them.

Let your dreams be dreams.

Remember them. Try to remember the very edges of the things that aren’t there.

Because that’s where the island lies. Flower Island. Maybe you’ll go there again someday. If you remember. If you can find it.

But, you know … I think Adder might remember that place anyway. Can you see it there, in her glint-wise eyes? She is half islander, after all. One day she might be able to get back. I’ll follow her. Back to Pa. Back to half of myself … Back to dreaming … Back to that spiral cycle of appearing and disappearing too … Maybe one day I will …

*   *   *

With a snap of her teeth, the dog took the paper from Finn’s hands, chewed it up, and swallowed.

“What the—?” He laughed at her goofy expression, then called up to Tommy. “The dog’s crazy! It just ate paper …”

But already Finn was forgetting the words written on it, forgetting, too, where they had sailed from. Remembering all of it only as a vague, distant dream. A glorious dream. A kick-ass one.

He leaned back into his balled-up sweater pillow. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to go home just yet. They had to refit Dad’s boat with all the stuff they’d lost, for one thing. But perhaps there was more to see out here on the ocean anyway, more to find. The place where the flowers from his dream grew, for one thing. He turned his face toward the dog’s snout.

“Adder,” he whispered.

That sounded … just right. Suited her, even. And the dog licked his chin almost like confirmation. She smelled of fish, of rotting oysters, and of the wide, wild sea.

“What are we going to do together?” he said. “What would you show me?”

Then Finn was turning over, shutting his eyes, forgetting even that dog. From somewhere far away, he heard a whistle, and then a distant voice he—almost—recognized … but it was already part of his dream, part of his sleeping, part of his dropping deep-down-deep … And already, the dog was shifting away, bounding gone …

And Finn was dreaming.