I was in an underground aquarium setting, with dark lighting, among other people, looking at the ocean through glass. We saw creatures swimming, plants wafting in the movement of the tide. I understood that I was (again) in the Olympia-that-is-not-Olympia, because of the people surrounding me--not people I knew but people that seemed familiar. All of a sudden, there was a loud booming sound and though I couldn't see it directly, I knew that in the next room over the aquarium wall was busting inward and it was just a matter of time before the glass broke and all the water poured in. Along with the creatures.
Later, I was one of about ten women heading out to the ocean at night. We were planning to swim somewhere. As I stepped into the water, I had a sense of fear but with all the other women I knew that somehow I'd be fine, even though I didn't have a clear sense where we'd be swimming to, or for how long. I had a bathing cap on, something I never wear. We swam in the twilight towards a huge ship, an ocean liner, and when I saw it I understood that we were swimming toward it and I had a sense of relief. We would be pulled up on board and this was just the practice run; the next night we'd have to swim toward it, get on it, and then they'd drop us off further out in the ocean, so we could swim with whales. The idea both shook me and pleased me, like a rush.
