I was swimming in the ocean with Andy and a little boy. The little boy didn't know how to swim that well...Andy did...we all got swept farther out into the ocean. The boy started drowning, and so did Andy, a bit. Andy was a stronger swimmer than the boy, so I grabbed him and put him on the shore. I went back into the water to look for Andy. He wasn't there.
I washed up on shore...I was unconsious...there was nobody around. I got up and went home. I hadn't saved Andy. I was sobbing.
The police had been called, and they couldn't locate him either. It was my fault, I had let him drown, I could have saved both of them...I remember going to school and just crying, and not working at all.
I had made a plan. I would find Andy.
Then it switched from a realistic dream to a strange dream -- the ocean was acutally a water bed, and I had to pull off all of these covers to get to it.
I was yanking and yanking...so many covers...Andy was in the covers. He was alive.
