Beyond the stormy sea, I drifted helplessly with nothing but a drenched backpack and my dignity.

“How did this happen?” I wondered as I clung to a rogue plank of wood. That was all that remained of my little sailboat. I wanted to sail to Ireland, but my luck ran out after my boat was destroyed in a terrible storm. The Irish coast seemed to taunt me as I was carried away by the same storm that kept me from reaching my destination. Despite the current situation I was in, I was thankful to be alive. Out of all the people in the world, why did Mother Nature spare me? I shivered as I felt the burning sensation of saltwater flooding into my nostrils. I began to panic as I wondered how long it would take me to suffer from hypothermia in seas as cold as the one I was in, or if sharks ever came so far north.

As the fog lifted, the moon sank as the morning sun took its place, its orange and purple beams breaking through the dark blue sky. The waves reflected the sun, creating a picture I longed to draw. But what caught my eye was something far more hopeful than daybreak. The fog continued to lift, parting like a curtain, and revealing a land mass that I was unfamiliar with. Far too small for Ireland.

What happened next is beyond me. I felt a sudden urge to swim closer and closer to the island. I faced the direction of the sunrise, gazing at the storm clouds that moved farther and farther away. The storm left behind a rough tide that pulled me closer and closer to land, my sanctuary. But something inside me told me that the tide wasn’t the only thing urging me to swim toward the land. It was as if the land mass was a titanic magnet, and I was attracted to it. I drew nearer to the shore, and the faint sounds of machinery, boats, and steam rang in my ears. I listened closely, concentrating on the dry land beyond me. Out of the blue, my ears picked up a voice. It was a low gruff voice. Gruff, but kind. The voice called out to me “Oi, what’re yeh doin’ so far out from the sea, my boy?”

I looked to my right, and a kind man with graying hair held his large hand out for me to take. “Yer ginnae freeze out here, lad.”

“That’s it, watch yer step, boy. Richards, get the wee lad a cloth, he’ll catch his death for sure if he’s not warm!” the man shouted at a younger man, possibly a fisherman.

Richards quickly scuttled inside the small fishing boat that I was rescued in, emerging moments later with a large blanket. “Well, now. I don’t know what you were doing out in the middle of the harbor. But I can assume you aren’t from around here,” Richards said to me as the blanket that enveloped me filled me with warmth. “I don’t know either, but the sailboat I was in got caught in a fierce storm. I was headed for Ireland from Prince Edward Island…” I paused for a moment, trying to jog my memory. “Where exactly am I?” I asked the gruff man.

“Norramby Harbour,” he replied bluntly, his eyes trained on gray clouds of smoke enveloping from above the outline of ships docked in the marina. “And where would that be?” I tried again, confused.

“The Isle,” the man smirked with admiration.

“Ye see, the maps call it Sudrah Isle, but we know it as ‘The Land of Dreams’,” the man explained as the fishing boat docked on the quayside.

“How come?” I asked curiously.

“Legend says that anyone who sets foot on the Isle can see things that the rest of the world cannot see with their own eyes. The things that inhabit this island are truly a gift from those above.”

“Of course, they’re things that people normally see, but there’s something about them that make them unlike anything else,” he finished, scratching his beard in the mid morning sunlight. I pondered for a moment. What about the Isle made it unlike anything in the world? Richards took me back inside of the fishing boat, where he handed me a bundle of clothing. “It’s lucky that you and I have a similar figure,” he told me “This should last you until you can find some better clothing.

He handed me the bundle, which consisted of a pair of black utility overalls, a white t-shirt, and red flannel shirt. After I changed into dry clothes, Richards smiled. “Better than wet clothes, that’s for sure and certain.” As the fisherman and Richards helped me out of the trawler, I could hear the faint sound of steam hissing. “Best get a move on, youngin’. Wouldn’t want yeh to miss the train,” the fisherman said as I shook his hand and Richards’. “Thank you for helping me,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

“Think nothing of it.” Richards smiled. “Safe travels.”

As I walked along the wooden docks below the concrete wall, I continued to hear steam wheeshing, chains clanging, boxes clunking, and doors sliding shut. I made my way up the concrete steps to the surface of the wall, the harbour town overlooking me as I reached the top step. I looked back at the coastal sea from which I came from. As I turned back around, I saw the train. My eyes focused on the large clouds of steam and exhaust that billowed from the steam engine, a time capsule of an age that was long gone. As it idled happily on the steel rails, as if it were waiting for me to join it. As I stepped into the guard’s van, I could almost hear a soothing voice from the loud whistle of the departing train.

I watched the coastal town get smaller and smaller. Maybe it was because I was travelling farther away from it. I heard the gulls squawking above me as the engine barreled away from the coast and into the countryside, as if they mocked my inability to soar like they could. My emotions became as vibrant as the morning sun that shone high in the sky. I gazed lovingly at the grassy fields and the other steam engines that passed by. Each whistle sounded like a quick conversation between these iron horses. I contemplated the fisherman’s words about this unique island and began to appreciate the life changing experience brought before me. Anything was possible, and even that wouldn’t happen anywhere else but on this very island.