Disembodied snorkeling with Polar Bear Midgets

I could see the Atlantic streched in front of me, green seas, with waves perfect for surfing. But the waters projected ordered calm, and the sun shined not too-hot and not too-cold, with no need for a dimmer.

Debris washed up to shore and then away, human artifacts scarely recognizable save for some miscellaneous scuba gear.

The vantage point shifted in an instant to the undersea shore, and there were two diminutive, misshappen polar bears rolling with the water's winds, their limbs flailing like a movie villian when he falls from a sky scraper.

And then I heard a noise that makes fingernails against the chalkboard sound positively symphonic. So, after cringing and listening to it twice, I roused myself and shut off my cell phone's alarm clock.

Dang it, one of the rare occasions that I remember my dream, and how the hell am I supposed to interpret it with that cut-scene: that the ice caps are melting?! (Damn that turtle spirit guide once again, so eco-minded.)