In one of my recurring dreamscapes, of the ocean on my right (it always appears on my right, from my point of view in dream world) and the homes and businesses on the left, uphill.
It's daytime. I'm standing on the second floor of the building, another dream motif of mine, a combined school-home-hotel type place. People live here, work here, it's an elementary school, partly. So I'm looking out at the ocean, people on the beach, high tide, and then realize that the ocean isn't water, it's . . . brownish, dark olive green lumpy ... something. Slices of ocean water here and there, in between the oily, brackish gunk, but, pretty much the ocean is gone.
"Oh my God," I shout. 'The oil from Louisiana has reached us!" I am very scared. Then a co-worker (an actual person I work with in waking life) comes up to me, puts her hand on my shoulder, and assures me it isn't the oil. It's just some kind of werid thing, like seaweed, that looks pretty terrible, but isn't, and will go away soon.
I feel better, but we feel the need to leave anyway. I'm in the passenger seat upfront of the car, we drive past the school-home-hotel type place. I've never been this direction before. BEACH ARCADE is painted in faded white letters on the side of the building. "That's weird, so that's what that place was," I think. About a block away is a covered parking lot with these odd little dune buggy-golf cart things. They belong to the BEACH ARCADE place but we're going to take them and drive to the gulf in them.
Well, who the hell knows what that means. Dreams. Hmmm...