Hemingway reading reaction pp. 6b-13a

The old man used to be young and strong. The boy's today is the old man's yesterday, I can imagine.

The old man used to travel to Africa on a square rigged ship and was able to see lions on the beaches in the evening. Now, he is in sound sleep in his shanty shack, and all the past is in his dream, the dream that used to be his dream when he was the boy's age. The storms, fights, pleasure and glory of the old days are all gone out of his dream. He only dreams of peaceful islands, tranquil harbors and golden beaches until the land breeze wakes him up in the early morning.

He keeps no alarm clock. Age is his alarm clock. And he is the boy's alarm clock.

When he wakes up, he goes up to wake the boy up. Now the moon is falling, and the old man and the young boy, carrying their harpoon and gaff, mast and sail, are already on their way to the far out ocean. The dark night is fading, and it's a new day dawning.

Btw, we have so far come to know their names, the old man Santiago, the boy Manolin.