Inspiration from "If Once You Have Slept on an Island" by Rachel Field. It's not necessary in understanding the story, but if you haven't read it, I suggest that you do.

Enjoy!

She stretched out her arms, feeling her soft beach towel and the grainy, rough sand by the lagoon as she lay on her back, soaking up the afternoon rays. Back in the jungle, birds flew far overhead, calling out their songs.

Beside her was Ginger, lounging on her towel, speaking to her and laughing. Her laughter sounded like wind chimes blowing in a gentle breeze. Her voice created soothing background noise, smooth as a lullaby. However, as intently as she listened, she could only make out half of what the movie star was saying. The sun reflected off her hair and cast a warm amber glow.

The Professor was nearby, and so was the Skipper, and their voices sounded far away and hard to hear. But from what she could hear, the conversation topic was clear- it was nothing new, after all. They discussed various plans to get them rescued and made preparations for an incoming tropical storm.

On a day like this, it seemed hard to believe that in a week or so, storm clouds would once again set in and block the brilliant sun. There was a gentle breeze threading through the palm trees and small waves crashed onto the sand. All was calm and beautiful; it was a picturesque island scene.

The radio also joined the symphony of island sounds that, for Mary Ann, had become synonymous with home. The Howells were reclining in their lawn chairs, sipping fruit cocktails while the radio announcer gave the financial report in his static, crackling voice. The Howells' chatter and laughter overlapped with the report, and it became hard to pick out what they and the radio were saying.

Lying there among her fellow castaways, Mary Ann felt as if they were all surrounded by a warm glow of happiness. Everything seemed to shine, from Ginger's silky hair and the Skipper's watch, to Mrs. Howell's diamond brooch and the glittering water of the lagoon.

And there was Gilligan, splashing around, his sunny smile being the brightest thing by far. He kicked down to the bottom and popped up out of the water, his hair flopping over his eyes. Mary Ann watched him, holding onto the perfect moment, a child's vivid crayon-colored dream come to life.

She stood from her towel and went to join him.

Mary Ann blinked in the dark. Gone were her friends, and the bright sun, and Gilligan- joy personified- swimming in the lagoon. Vanished right before her eyes.

Then she remembered. She was sleeping in her own bed in her childhood bedroom, as she had been doing for a month since the rescue ship had found them.

There had been no crackling radio and no soothing voices. All it had been was the familiar, homespun sound of her Uncle George snoring in a room just down the hall. Gone too was the great big ocean just outside her door. Instead, her waiting ears were met with the swish of wind blowing through the wheat fields and the chirping of crickets.

She didn't move for a while, her mind caught someplace between Kansas and a small, now charted island in the Pacific. Finally, she fell back asleep, lulled by the gentle breeze threading through the wheat field.