In my recurring boyhood dream I was underwater. Sometimes under the sea, sometimes in a pool and sometimes in an undefined expanse, but always underwater. And I could breathe. Free, easy breaths as I glided effortlessly wherever the dream took me.

But something happened. I grew up, and somewhere along the way I lost that dream. If I still dream it in the deeper recesses of my sleep, I don't remember upon waking. I miss it.

I was thinking of the dream inside Blue Cave on Curaçao. We were taking surface time between Santa Cruz and Mushroom Forest. Free-diving into a hidden oasis of undulating blue waters and reflected rippling light, we glided 20 feet to the bottom through schools of fish. Looking back I saw a diver silhouetted against the opening, gracefully diving, and I captured him surfacing through the fish. An idyllic moment on Curaçao. And it wouldn't be my last.

I love scuba. As I tell my friends, if I didn't run out of air, I wouldn't come up. While I don't actually dream my dream anymore, at least I can live part of it, though I still haven't figured out how to breathe underwater on my own.

Inner space always held an attraction for me. I watched Lloyd Bridges open up the underwater world on Sea Hunt. I read Jules Verne and watched nearly every movie having to do with diving, from Boy on a Dolphin to The Deep to The Abyss. Always below my surface was the echo of my dream. Yes, I would ride the space shuttle in a heartbeat if invited, but the allure of the deep is far more attainable.

After some beginning experiences in high school and college, I let scuba go. Youthful marriage, careers, kids, responsibilities and other interests pushed it aside to linger in the recesses of my almost-forgotten dreams. Even when I had a chance, I passed on it or some circumstance prevented it.

I was well into my 40s before I picked up the dream again. I regret the delay. At the risk of waxing trite, life is too freakin' short!

Which is why I traveled to Curaçao with my son, Dave, to take part in the Sport Diver magazine photojournalism expedition. Though a professional photographer and teacher, Dave has had little opportunity to dive and had never done underwater photography. While I had done both, I am at best a knowledgeable amateur. This was a dream trip, and I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate his 30th birthday. Getting published matters little; it's moments of pleasure and learning that count. And I did learn.

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At Mushroom Forest I captured a stoplight parrotfish in my lens, a beautifully colored specimen about 12 inches long. Using unfamiliar cameras, I was concerned that I might mess up, guess wrong on distance or aperture or strobe position or something. The cameras were older Nikonos, so I had none of the instant gratification or feedback of digital cameras.

The second day we dove at College Reef and Hell's Corner plus a shore dive. As the boat cut through turquoise and azure seas I enjoyed wave-carved cliffs and occasional groupings of homes above them along with scattered coves that lend themselves to private resort areas. I saw many beautiful fish, including multicolored trumpetfish.

Heading back to Sunset Waters I placed my face into the wind and smiled. I have been to Paradise, and it's not overrated – though it can be hard to find. My thoughts drifted back to our arrival on Curaçao.

We landed safely; my luggage did not. Where it journeyed I know not, and when it showed up a day later, significantly abused, it wasn't telling.

Night was upon us as we embarked in our rental car. I drove while Dave read directions. Told it will take about 10 minutes to get to the resort, the directions seemed simple and forthright. Right. Ten minutes turned to 20, then 40. I think we are lost.

Stopping at one of scores of little ramshackle bars or eateries with a few people leisurely hanging out, I asked two gentlemen where we are and how to get to Sunset Waters. There was much scratching of heads as I experienced my first taste of Papiamentu, the local language, a strange mixture of Spanish, Dutch, English and who knows what. Finally, through a few English and Spanish words, I understood that we should drive down the road, go left at the gas station and look for Lagun.

Curaçao road signs are not big or revealing and are sometimes nonexistent, and the opaqueness of the almost lightless countryside contributed to our confoundedness. Our 10-minute trip took two hours, but we felt better hearing others tell similar tales of being lost in the void.

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Serendipitous moments remind me that it's what you don't see at first that can end up being best. Having just finished shooting a few frames of fish on the Mako's Mountain dive, I noticed a small lateral crevasse a few feet down the wall. Upside down I took a peek and there he was, peeking back at me right side up. If you are having trouble with my orientation, no, I wasn't suffering from nitrogen narcosis. My lobster friend was clinging to the top of his little cave, so we were both upside down. Therefore in a weightless environment, we were right side up with each other ... oh, forget it, it works for me.

We first met Amos Nachoum on the plane from Miami to Curaçao. Amos is a fascinating character. Former Israeli Special Forces and antiterrorist training prepared him for his second life's singular mission: photographing the world's largest animals above and below the seas. I was eager to hear his stories, insights and tips and to watch him in action.

I was also impressed with the others in our small band of photojournalist aspirants, or "wannabes" as Detroit imaging editor Kelly "Q" called us. Also joining us were Kelly "2," a high-school student from Toms River, New Jersey, and Renae, an advertising print producer from Manhattan Beach, California.

Dive buddies Gary and Cookie journeyed from Colorado. Gary is a Volvo service coordinator and Cookie a Photoshop enthusiast. Cary and Mary – what is up with the names in this group? – joined us from Florida, where Cary owns his own dive boat in Key Largo. Tom, a photographer/dive center operator, hailed from Concord Township, Ohio.

Dave flew from Rochester, New York, where he teaches high-school photography and computer graphics. Me? As usual I was along for entertainment purposes. Include Amos and Ty, add water and stir, and you had an intriguingly diverse group.

Preparing for the trip, Dave suggested we try to purchase not one camera each, but two. He was able to find two Nikonos and two Nikonos V cameras with two sets of 28 mm and 35 mm lenses plus strobes on the Internet. This allowed us to have one camera for wider angles and another for macros on the same dive. His foresight and knowledge proved especially fortuitous when one of his cameras flooded. And when Kelly Q's equipment failed, I was able to lend her one of mine. Murphy's Law indicates that equipment will fail at the moment repair is least feasible.

Human failure is another certainty. Gliding by a cave I did a classic double-take. Yes! I thought I saw a flash of green, and there he was, a big ol' green moray eel with 10 to 12 inches of razor teeth. Why, he's smiling at me, I thought. I was so glad he was happy to see me that I took my camera to the opening for shots of what I hoped would be a winner for a toothpaste commercial. I felt quite pleased.

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Later I had a nagging thought: I didn't remember seeing the strobe flash as I took those pictures. On the boat I asked Amos about it. He said it was one of two things. Sometimes the eye doesn't see the flash because of an angle or the timing, especially when it's set on TTL (automatically adjusting the strobe). Or the strobe might not have been positioned properly and the flash dissipated on the formations around the opening.

When I reviewed the developed images I sadly learned that one of my better opportunities was lost because I didn't think. Indeed, the strobe had dissipated outside and all I got were boring shots of a dark opening instead of a toothy moray. Grrrrrrrr. Next time I will be more patient and consider the exact position of the strobe and move it closer to the lens, even though the chance of "scatter back" is greater.

But random luck heals disappointment quickly. I was lazily flicking my flippers for soft propulsion when underneath me appeared a peacock flounder brilliantly clothed in mottled purple gliding a foot or so off the bottom. I clicked off a couple frames and angled closer. Sensing me, he headed to the bottom and rapidly transformed, perfectly camouflaged. I had three frames showing the dramatic transition.

After a day's diving, it was a welcome and refreshing retreat to lazily float in the resort's pool, occasionally swimming to the bar for cool libation. Local flora, beautiful birds and surrounding hills added to the pleasant and relaxing atmosphere. I could get used to this.

I met Michael, the cable guy who takes care of 80 percent of the island's resorts. I queried him on sights and places of interest and he noted a few, including a particular beach on the northern shore where surfers hang that we would visit later in the week.

After the next morning's dives at Mako's Mountain and Lost Anchor, we hit the road. Transitioning from Sunset Waters to Willemstad, we stopped at Habitat Dive Resort for a couple of afternoon dives at Cas Abou and Long Beach. About 80 feet deep at Long Beach I drifted above coral formations when I sensed something. I looked down and saw what looked like an illusion. Suspecting it to be no illusion, but a camouflaged creature, I thrilled to find a scorpionfish doing his best to blend into his surroundings. Carefully, because the scorpionfish is very poisonous, I brought my camera close and shot a couple of frames that I hoped would convey his disconcerting "hiddenness."

Black and white film provides a different and sometimes more satisfying image in many situations. I was particularly pleased with some shots including other divers in the seascapes.

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These dives were full of fascinating life. I saw an underwater forest kingdom with striped grunts meandering through. Undulating formations of living, dying and dead coral created mysterious environments. Peeking over a large brain coral I found a beautiful bluehead swimming in circles. I took a number of macros, including some of a warm and glowing sun anemone. So much to see and so little time … if only I didn't run out of air.

We then traveled to Willemstad, the capital and largest city on Curaçao, and stayed at Breezes, a comfortable and sprawling resort hotel. We experienced good food and ambience at the nearby Lions Dive and Beach Resort next to the Sea Aquarium.

Off Willemstad our deepest dive was to the wreck of the Superior Producer, lying upright at a depth of over 100 feet. I persuaded Q to attempt to position herself at the bow in surreal imitation of a mermaid figurehead carving. I shot black and white film in hope the humor might be enhanced by the ghostly effect. She pulled it off quite gracefully.

We dove this site twice. On this first dive the water was calm, with little current. I began on the bottom with the dramatic view of the bow arching above as if to seek out the surface from where it came. Colors are muted at greater depths, but the overall effect of the massive wreck created a sense of special perspective within a vast background of undulating blue-gray space.

The second dive was at the shallower tugboat at Saba. Wonderful formations greeted us, and I was particularly pleased with some sergeant majors meandering through the wheelhouse portholes. Outside I found a dramatic coral wall and overhang and a threespot damselfish between some gorgonian and brain coral formations. Finally I discovered a fight-damaged crab in a vase sponge.

After an unusual and fun dinner of hanging kabobs at Equus, we caravanned through Willemstad to Tu Tu Tango, one of the city's popular nightclubs. We walked down an alley and at the end turn a corner into a large courtyard nestled in between buildings. This open-air club has a comfortable ambience. As the evening progressed the floor became wall-to-wall people. However, I was puzzled that in spite of the disc jockey spinning some throbbing tunes, no one danced.

Our fifth and final dive day saw a markedly different second dive at the Superior Producer. Though the divemaster announced a "little" current, we found otherwise. I noticed the resistance, but didn't think much of it until I reached the bottom next to the wreck and felt myself breathing with more effort than normal. I checked my air gauge and was surprised to see I had used almost a third of my supply. I had to rethink my bottom time.

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Realizing that to explore the top and sides of the wreck as I planned would take a greater effort and therefore cause me to surface sooner than I wished, I decided to rise earlier and drift, hoping to catch some photo ops closer to surface. Five minutes later I was glad I did, for I spied a lone jellyfish gracefully waving to me at around 20 feet. She was beautiful in her gown of white translucence and I hoped I captured her shimmering in cerulean space.

On the boat I commented on the "little" current. Others nodded. Amos, venerable voice of experience, chastised us wryly, asking why we didn't swim on the surface to the dive buoy and use the anchored rope to easily pull ourselves to the bottom. "Didn't you see me do that?" he asked. We looked at him like the dunces we were at the moment. Duh.

The afternoon at Diver's Leap was a fitting end to the diving. I busily photographed French angelfish, smooth trunkfish, dusky damselfish, surgeonfish, initial-phase stoplight parrotfish with French grunts, trumpetfish, a purplish-blue spotted juvenile yellowtail damselfish, a banded butterflyfish and … well, I hit the jackpot on this dive! Q motioned me over to an undulating tree of soft gorgonian coral. She pointed underneath where I found a cute porcupinefish just waiting for me with a Mona Lisa smile.

In high school some teammates and I decided to see who could hold their breath the longest. Each took a turn holding a rubber brick and sitting on the pool bottom while the rest of us timed and watched. One fellow nearly blacked out and had to be rescued. I think the record was around three minutes. I made it almost two and a half minutes. But I had to come up. If only I didn't run out of air …

I have been to Paradise, and it's not overrated. I have found it beholding the azure Aegean from atop Santorini's thousand-foot cliff, holding my child for the first time, being caressed by a special selection of music, embracing the sunrise from a 14,000-foot peak or swimming in a languid starlit lagoon at four in the morning. And I have found it under the sea at the Great Barrier Reef, Hawaii, Dominica and now Curaçao.

I enjoyed an afternoon of rest and dinner on the beach provided by the Ministry of Tourism. The next and last of our days we spent driving around the island. Dave and I took off in the rental car from Willemstad to the north side of the island to find the surfers and anything else of interest.

We found an arid and stark landscape of sand, rocks and cactus melding into a table of volcanic rock and fossilized coral closer to the sea. These are not areas to walk barefooted. At Playa Kanoa we found the rugged beach with surfers and pounding waves. Dave shot digital with a powerful telephoto lens and showed me a spectacular shot that Amos later suggested he try to sell to a surfing magazine. Note to self: It's time to go digital and time to get yourself some decent lenses.

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At San Pedro Springs we discovered a cattle farm and private zoo complete with exotic birds, turtles, monkeys, a horse and what looked like a puma or panther of some kind. Then we drove miles along a dirt beach road to witness a marvelous display of thundering, spraying surf as counterpoint to surreal giant windmills that might impress even Don Quixote. Along the way we happened to notice and explore cliffs where some native artist had nailed red tiles to form birds and other creatures, a sight I imagine few tourists would ever know is there. We returned at sunset ready to eat and enjoy an idyllic Caribbean evening.

I will remember the floating market and a very pleasant morning sitting outside Plein Café, drinking "B the Iced Tea." I will recall the view from the turrets of Fort Beekenburg and Willemstad's interesting juxtaposition of old and new and a flavor of Amsterdam along narrow streets of buildings painted in refreshing pastels. I will remember laughs and smiles and a wonderful time with my son..

After a week on Curaçao, I enjoyed a tremendous sense of fulfillment as the plane rose from Hato airport out of the island warmth. Below stretched the north shore with its volcanic rock, desert expanse and exploding surf.

I reflected on the spectrum of color, animals, people and scenery I experienced on Curaçao. I was exceedingly thankful and relaxed. I remembered the smiles our experiences produced.

I thought of the stupid question many think so brilliant: "Is the glass half empty or half full?" I'm sorry, but that question is half-assed. Who wants half a glass?! I want a full one, thank you. If your cup is to "runneth over," you have to have your glass full first and be constantly adding new to it.

The full glass is a never-ending tapestry of awesome and inspiring places and life. In the midst of a world of conflict and cruelty I am reminded that on most basic levels, people are similar, grasping similar aspirations, desires, fears and loves wherever I go. If we stop and allow grace to overtake us, the spirit of being transcends time, space and the petty disputes that wreak so much havoc on this planet.

Underwater the moment is all – the past and future merge in the present as time folds upon itself in eternity. I have wished that I might somehow give such moments to everyone. I have been to Paradise and it is not overrated.

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I left Curaçao behind as I have left my other moments in Paradise. But I was not sad, because I knew that they would always be with me and that other moments await.

So my dream is still with me. And I know why I must come up, even if I could breathe under water. I come up to share it. I come up to try and make a difference. I come up to love and be loved and to continually find my place in this life. And I come up to let you know that Paradise – or Heaven, if you will – exists, and its previews can be found in the creation around us and the creation within us. These are places of the senses and the hearts and minds of our existence. Perhaps here we can discover and uncover grace and peace and offer them to a world sorely in need of them. Goodbye, ayo, fare well y vaya con Dios.

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This was a first for me, and I am thankful for the opportunity. My expectations were met and at moments exceeded. I learned more about underwater photography in this week than I had learned in all my previous dives combined. Having a mission gave me focus and motivation. Having others around me with the same purpose provided stimulation and inspiration. And the results give me great pleasure and satisfaction. One thing is for sure: Excellent photojournalism requires much thought, energy and creativity as well as some luck. Doing this full-time would be a joy, but it would not be easy. The hardest part was coming home to all the business and personal demands and then trying to find time to write and organize photos. Finishing up my third straight night working past 2 a.m., I am pleased with my effort, though I see many ways it could be better. Tomorrow I will send it off and see what Ty thinks.

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** Curaçao Tidbits**

· Location: 35 miles north of Venezuela, next to Aruba · Size: 182 square miles; 38 miles long and 2 to 7.5 miles wide · Capital: Willemstad · Population: 192,000 · Governance: Dutch · Language: Dutch, Spanish, English and Papiamentu (a hybrid local language) · Currency: Dutch guilders and U.S. dollars are both used freely. Most major credit cards are accepted. · Climate: Mid-80s year-round. Rainy season is October to February, but rain is mostly at night. · Entry Requirements: U.S. and Canadian citizens can use passports or birth certificates with photo IDs and return tickets. Others need passports. · To Bring: Film and video supplies, toiletries, sunscreen, bug spray (for occasional evenings in rainy season when mosquitoes might come out) and other items that may cost more on the island · History: Discovered by Spanish sailors in 1499. Conquered by the Dutch in 1634. A center of the 17th-century slave trade. Growth and immigration began in the 1920s · Name: Most likely a derivation of the Spanish corazon, which means "heart"; pronounced "Kursow" by the residents · Chief attractions: Diving and boating. Fishing. Beaches. Mountains. Shopping. Dining. Night life. Casinos. Golf. Historical sites and architecture. Kurá Hulanda Museum. Floating market. Sea Aquarium. Friendly people.

Page[pagebreak] Must Dives (Author's Ratings from 1-5 Tanks)

Mushroom Forest -- 4 The Cave – 5 Lost Anchor -- 4 Cas Abou -- 4 Long Beach -- 4 The Superior Producer – 4.5 Saba -- 5 Diver's Leap -- 5

Must See Land Attractions (Author's Ratings from 1-5 Tanks)

Floating Market – 3.5 Willemstad Old Town/Shops – 4.5 Restaurants & Night Life -- 4 Mount Christoffel & Scenery -- 4 Playa Kanoa – 5 Shete Boka National Park -- 5 West Punt – 4 Beaches, coves and cliffs -- 5