Surfing Malibu, when the conditions are right, can feel like a waking dream. Can be, because usually, surfing Malibu means fighting surly crowds, with ten people hassling for position on every wave. But once in a while, I’ve caught that wave that all surfers rehearse in their heads: on a classic longboard, you turn towards shore and paddle to catch the wave just as it rises to break; dropping down the face, you pop to your feet, push on your back foot to turn the board and accelerate down the line, take two steps towards the nose and pause, trying to be as graceful as a ballet dancer poised just ahead of the curling lip. That moment of stillness balanced on swirling water might last a second at most. Then it collapses, and you shuffle back, adjust your feet, and read the next section of the wave, or maybe you wipe out in bliss.  When the wind cooperates, the water’s surface becomes what surfers call “glassy” — a curving mirror with a dark green tint. Distorted layers of green water, …