Beach Dreaming

I've come to realize my dreams are sometimes more complex than a regular dream. Lately there seem to be plots within plots in my nighttime escapes. This time, last night, there was way more going on than I was paying attention to. I was distracted. There was a duality that kept me pinging back and forth like a ping pong ball.


First, I'm up to my knees in the ocean surrounded by low swells and jagged edges of coral encrusted rock, holding hands with a man I've never seen in person. The water is sapphire and emerald, the sand fine beneath my toes. I am in a red dress, marked dark by the water splashing up my hips and waist. There's a presence there but no matter how fast I turn, he stays just out of my peripheral. It makes me curious and slightly queasy, not seeing this person who remains hidden in the open ocean.
The next moment I'm in a shabby bedroom, paint peeling from the tops of the walls, a shabby curtain hanging by threads in a small window. The bed has no box spring and sits in the corner; the only other furniture is a night stand set by the door. I'm holding a note trying to read the writing scrawled there as a man whispers in my ear. His words are nearly inaudible and I am only able to hear certain words: Ocean, payback, mafia, and strange. The order of the words and the words themselves do not make any sense to me. I'm confused beyond reason, and don't know who or where I am.
Back in the ocean with a beautiful stranger, we're sitting on a large rock surrounded by gentle waves. A sea lion swims by, chortling and snorting for air. The rock is rough beneath my fingers and my red dress is now teal and seaweed is tangled in my toes. The man tells me something but his words are caught by the wind. I leap off the rock thinking to catch them- to grab them from the wind and hear them in my hands. Splashing toward the shore I see a dinner party off near the sunset. Tables are covered in white and beautifully dressed women stand staring in my direction. There is fear, and then there is Fear, and I feel them both.
Next, I'm back in the bedroom, struggling to get away from the note I can't read, yelling at the man I can't hear. I run through the home, out the front door, and think I'm getting away. I make a turn and end up back in the bedroom holding the note, listening to words I can't understand. I look up into his dark eyes and suddenly I can hear him say "Go back to the ocean, come back here.'' As if my ears had opened with my eyes and everything fell into place with diamond clarity. And yet, I still don't know what is going on. There is something expected of me as this man stares into my eyes but it elludes me.
I'm back, splashing in the shallow waters, not sure if I'm running from the rocks or running to the people on the shore. A man's arm wraps around my waist and pulls me back into the water. I kick my feet and thrash my elbows and as my head submerges, I wake.

Upon waking I had a sense my dream had more going on in the background as I struggled between the man in the ocean and the man in the bedroom. It felt political, like there were agendas I was not allowed to understand but witnessed enough of to know they were there.

I'm really liking my dreams lately.