Dream Journal
B, another person, and I were walking down the beach in Homer carrying buckets and shovels. At a nice spot, we stop and drop to our knees. Using my hands, I dig deep into the wet mucky sand, and pull out a clam. I am trying to teach B and this other person how to dig for clams.
I sink in my arms again and pull out a lot of sand and dirt. Sifting through it with my fingers, I come across a small ball of roots. I explain that these roots belonged to the clam I just dug out. Looking into the hole, I watch as a clam foot digs farther into the muck. I glance over at B and see that he and the other person both had four or more clams at their knees. I feel inadequate as a teacher because they are doing so much better than I.
Since everyone is ready to start clam digging with full force, we step back to get the shovels and buckets. I grab the shovel with the longest handle. This is the spade shovel B and I just bought this weekend; I know this because its sticker is still attached to the head.
B thinks he should use the new shovel because of its extended length, and I playfully keep it away from him. After a bit of playful banter, I trade spades with him. I step forward and give him a big hug and a kiss; while I do, the handle of the shovel he is holding rubs me between my legs and feels very good.
Our kissing becomes more passionate and we drop the shovels. I take off my glasses, and he leads me to a soft spot in the sand where we both sit. Making out, he plays with my clitoris and brings me close to orgasm.
Glancing up, I see the rough figure of a person coming around the bluff point 20 feet away. I try to stop B, but am overcome by pleasure. This figure come closer and verbally interrupts us. I leap off of his lap and lunge for my glasses sitting in the sand a few feet away.
This person is foreign, a tourist, and knows little English. He mentions something about his truck not being able to get back because of the flooded river. This greatly confuses B and I, and we try hard to understand. As we look back the direction we originally came, we see that the tide has come in quite suddenly and is very high.
We panic that we might not be able to get back because of the high water line. Using the time that we still have, we sprint the few miles back to the opening of the beach. Here we saw the foreigner’s vehicle - a white Volvo - sitting on one side of what looked like a flooded river. On the other side was the hill to the park and parking lot that connects the town to the beach.
There is a couch that we have to push up this small hill and into the parking lot. I watch as B and the foreigner and a few other men try with all their might to get the couch over the tip of this small hill. Every time, the flooded river pushes it back down.
I step closer to the couch and give a few suggestions. B doesn’t understand what I am suggesting, so I grab the couch and show him. Immediately, it goes over the hill where it belongs. I was proud that I knew how to solve the problem.