Near to where I lived was a beautiful beach of pure white sand that was soft like snow. The water was always clear and warm. Surrounded by woods it was very private and at least a mile before reaching any sunbathers. I loved going there during the day.
But I especially loved swimming there at night, around midnight. Moonlight time.
I’d park my car in the woods just out of sight, and make my way along a secretive path through tall pines and waving sea oats under the stars. Until my bare feet touched the moonlit covered white sand of what would be my own secluded beach at night.
Often taking off all of my clothes, I would step into the very warm clear water until it was just deep enough for me to swim. And that is when the magic would begin.
The water, at night, was filled with phosphorescence. Beautiful, magical, illuminated little stars that would swim in the water with me. Luminescence that made the water glow all around me. Like an astral sea.
I would stretch out my arms and hands and thousands of tiny little stars that filled the water would move with me, respond to me. I would wave my hand through the water, and feel as if I was moving millions of stars across the universe.
I could turn over and look up at the stars in the night sky. They were really beautiful. Special. I would feel as if I was floating in the universe. Especially if there might be a full moon that would also illuminate the few clouds that floated above me like cotton candy.
But the stars in the sky were nothing compared to the stars I could move and wave around with my fingertips in the ocean as I swam. And soon I would turn over and feel like a God who could command the universe, create my own galaxies and star paths, as the ocean’s phosphorescence surrounded me in my own little heaven of starlight.