Close encounters of the wet kind

You are snorkeling a transect in the marine reserve, doing one the reef fish surveys with your workmates, and you are approaching to the end, where the boat is waiting for you. But, suddenly, you realize of the presence of three tourist dhows encircling something just in front of you, and moving steadily in your direction. Until this circle closes around you, and the herd of dolphins that was being chased by them appears underwater in front of your wide-opened eyes. And you find yourself surrounded by nine dolphins that are swimming around and below you, neither you of them caring about the boats in the surface. Concretely, seven adults and two calves.
During some minutes, you can just breath enough to get underwater once again. During that short spam, all your attention is focused on those  playful creatures that look at you, encircle you and explore your reactions like thinking "what are this guys doing here?". You can barely swim at the same speed, which they have considerably lowered to approach you. And you can feel their eyes fixed on yours, while you swim parallel one to each other, sharing that magical moment of cross-directional curiosity. And you can also hear and feel in your skin the sounds they make, as an additional way of testing who or what you are, or like if they were discussing whether you are a threaten or simply something weird to look at.
But finally, these ghosts of the depths disappear once again, crossing to the other side of the limit of the underwater twilight, as fast and suddenly as they appeared. And you get back to the surface, trying to recover all that oxygen that you have not missed almost at all during the previous five minutes, simply amazed of the experience you have just lived, you mouth wide opened, shivering and astonished.

Bottlenose dolphins in the Kisite-Mpunguti marine park