A Dolphins Dream Read Online Free PDF

were pointing off over the edge of the wall where, swimming in the mid-water column, was a lone dolphin – silver gray, large bodied, with an ever-present smile. It seemed to hang in the water, casually eyeing the divers and their kaleidoscopic bevy of bubbles that rose to the surface, capturing the hidden light of the sea, dancing their way to oblivion.
    Compton’s preoccupation prevented him from catching early sight of the dolphin, but when he finally saw it, he felt strangely attracted and was overtaken with a desire that was unfamiliar in its fervor. In his excitement, he released the anchor line to swim down for a closer look. In that moment, he realized his mistake, but rather than try and reclaim his hold on the line, he elected to power down to the dolphin with forceful kicks. The kicks, as mighty as they were, could not overcome the buoyancy of his BC and he began to rise. Seized by frustration and fueled by a resolute longing of unknown origins, he ripped at the BC, attempting to discharge the air by way of disembowelment, frantically pulling on the connector hose as he continued to rise to the surface. Finally, he managed to separate the connector hose from the BC and in a mini-explosion of air, the BC filled itself with water and aborted his ascent. Gleefully liberated, he immediately began to sink towards the near motionless dolphin below. Swimming furiously down and over the edge of the drop-off, he did not veer from the dolphin. It was deeper than it appeared and as he began to close the distance, the dolphin appeared to slip away as if it were a mirage. Then, as if called, the dolphin turned and swam off into the cobalt abyss, disappearing altogether. Out in this deep water with no bottom as a point of reference, Compton had no sense of his depth or if he was suspended or, in fact, sinking. He instinctively began to kick and look around. Far above, the other divers winked in silhouette at the edge of the wall. Slowly, in a semi-trance state, he realized that he had been sinking all the while and began to kick in earnest. Despite hard thrusts from his fins he continued to sink and panic began to ooze its way into his body. Though he felt restriction in his breath and his legs flailed against the thick atmosphere of water, he had the presence of mind to check his computer, discovering himself to be down over a hundred and sixty feet and still falling. Recognizing the severity of his predicament, he began a last ditch kick that did nothing but consume what little was left of his energy. The deep breaths of panic and exertion placed a demand on his regulator that it was unable to meet. Short of air, a building constriction in his chest released him from what was left of his senses and placed him in full panic. He knew he was going to die here, and as that thought took firm and undeniable root, John Scott was at his side, attempting to inflate the wreck of the ation and tching the last of a few trapped bubbles coursing their way past a gaping hole in its bladder. Scott pulled the quick release harness and handed over his spare regulator to Compton, who exchanged it for his own as Scott pulled the over-weighted scuba rig off Compton and let it fall away. Now they were rising with Scott’s hand under Compton’s arm, lifting him slowly to the surface. In the safety of Scott’s hands, his breath came under control and he was able to relax into the ascent. They rose to the edge of the wall where the other divers awaited, no doubt perplexed by the events that had unfolded before them. Compton saw them not as divers but as diners seated around tonight’s dinner table.                
     Scott assisted Compton aboard the boat and tore off his mask, his face swollen and veined with anger. “What the hell happened down there?”
    Compton’s first impulse was to run, to hide, to fabricate a story, “equipment failure’ would have done nicely, would have satisfied all inquires. All evidence to the