Dreams: The Empty Archipelago

Slept hard the night after we got back, and had one of those bizarrely lucid dreams that I sometimes do. I'm probably the better for it; these sorts of dreams tend to come along when I'm shaking something off. 

I'd been in an airplane, and we'd made an emergency landing on a stretch of road on an island. No idea where; the dream started after we'd landed, so we didn't get any dramatic speeches from the pilot or anything. I just came into the dream knowing that the plane was down, that it had landed safely but we didn't have any way to get it back up. Most of the passengers decided to stay put and wait for help, but I went exploring instead. 

So: island, tropical, built out but strangely empty. There were roads, sidewalks, buildings, a lighthouse off in the distance. No people, though. There was another island nearby, that looked close enough to swim to; I headed down a wooden walkway that went off in that direction. A few of the other passengers filtered out after me. 

The boardwalk ended in small, avant-guard museum, which was unlocked but uninhabited. I had a flashlight on me, so we made our way through to the back rooms, which had table holding massive vegetables -- like, a squash the size of my chest. Reassured that we wouldn't starve if things like this grew around here, I found the back door, and... 

Came out into a room with people in it. They didn't seem surprised by our appearance, or even very interested in it, but they answered questions. No, they didn't really know how they got here. No, they didn't know any way back. Yes, there was food and water -- I wasn't sure if they grew it, or if it just somehow appeared from time to time. As far as I could tell, they'd established routines and were content where they were. 

I meant to move further in, to see if I could figure out what was going on here, but I woke up before I could get any further.