Couldn't Stand The Weather

In one of my weirder dreams, I am flying in stormy weather over angry seas—with an adoptive flock of seagulls that had brought me up as one of their own. I look below and see only the white tips of waves breaking all over each other as they earnestly try to reach a distant, unseen shore. Darkness is all around me; the sky so dark I cannot even see the wing of the seagull-brother flying beside me. Up front, with the lead seagull lighting the way with a torch firmly in his beak, we see a smattering of small islands just beyond the horizon. We prepare to land.