The narcotics underworld of the 70s was a deadly place, even for a man named Lucky. Beneath the shallow surface of glitz and glamour lay the dark depths of life
against the law. In limbo somewhere between the hippie age and the selfish 80's a band of castaways tries to keep alive a dream of freedom and friendship.
As they sail the west coast, smuggling drugs aboard an old schooner they begin to share powerful night-time visions. As Lucky describes it, "It felt to me as if each
night after we all eventually went to bed, made love, watched the stars or whatever we did to relax, as sleep approached, our minds merged - connected across the moonlit spaces by
strands of ectoplasm or electrical fields or sub-real particles we will not discover for a thousand years. Then the orcas would come and give us a ride. Images and strange liquid
sounds tumbled through our brains. Memories, maybe; someone's memories. Maybe our own if the biologists are right that we were once fish. Mostly it was just flashes of shorelines
seen from the water, or long, murky stretches when the eyes were of no use and they had senses we didn't. And always there was the star, beckoning as though we could swim right
off the planet."
