I was at the beach again, but for once it was bright daytime. The waves were insanely high, like a hundred feet. I want you to take a moment to imagine a hundred-foot wall of water crashing down on the shore in front of you. That’s a ten-story building of water. Just let that sink in.
OK. Now, one of these waves wasn’t crashing. It was like a standing wave of water. On top of this standing wave was a ship, and Costa, Shayne, and I needed to get on board. We were bringing supplies to the ship, so we tied them to ourselves with rope, then dove headfirst into the giant waves. The first time we tumbled back to shore and had to try again; the second time we were successful and the sea swallowed us. We held our breath for a long time, and then the dream cut to the interior of an office building.
I’ve never been to an office that looked like it in real life, but in the dream it was Xandie’s work. Some unknown amount of time had passed and I was looking at a headline on some sort of tablet or e-reader. I expected it to be about people drowning after they tried to swim in hundred-foot surf, but it was just an article congratulating a new executive director at CCEO. Then the headline automatically scrolled to another one congratulating Tiffany on her recent marriage. Then Sammy Razon was there, and she worked there, and we were all talking about the dogs their family used to have. In the dream, though, the dogs looked different and had different names than in real life. Rick Crespo also worked there, and he asked me for the keys to the ship from the first part of the dream because he wanted to check if everyone had made it OK. At this point I hadn’t gone with Costa and Shayne to the ship; I had just been observing. I gave Rick the keys, then decided to accompany him.
Cut to the interior of the ship, where Costa and a fat Latino man (I guess he replaced Shayne?) were sitting languidly on the floor. Someone who’d been on the ship when they’d boarded it was milling around doing chores, not really paying the intruders any mind. Now it became clear that in the beginning, they weren’t actually “bringing supplies” in the sense of being helpful, but rather they were bringing food for themselves to subsist on once they commandeered the ship. But when Costa told the Latino guy to “do it,” meaning, I assume, to seize control of the ship, the Latino guy simply said, “We are not pirates. We just want to go home.” The scene faded out and back in; same room, same people. Now there was a pile of beans and rice on the floor, the food Costa and Fat Latino Shayne brought with them, and in voiceover, the Latino man said, “Our food lasted us through the first day…” Quick fade out/in; the pile of beans and rice was smaller. “…And the second…” Fade. Much smaller pile. “…And the tenth…” Fade. Now the pile was gone. Costa and Fat Latino Shayne were eating pizza, but it was their last food. The crew of the ship didn’t share any of their food with them.
Out of the blue, one of the crew members picked up an old 18th-century pistol that was chained to the wall and said it was what they put in the mouths of people who didn’t do their chores. Costa had a pistol of his own, which he fired through an open window into the water. The rest of the crew was outside, including the captain, whose face I saw when he heard the shot. He assumed the worst and ran back inside, along with the rest of the crew. The end.