Scuba-diving and dumpsters

Dream I was scuba diving with friends and we had stayed underwater so long that our eyes had adjusted to the dark and our skin had adjusted to the cold, and it took someone from above, who had just come down below, to remind us that somewhere else there were bright warm places and we didn’t have to sit on the sea floor, holding our parties there.

Then of smoking with the same friends on a beach resort at night, and someone offered a drink but I didn’t take it.

And then wanting to leave, being ready to move on, in some ways, but there was a dumpster full of old junk I had forgotten to sort, and visions of my childhood room in Philadelphia, with all my stuff still in it, and more. And everyone was willing to help, but I had all this stuff to go through, old cassettes, VHS tapes, and zillions of scraps of paper with writing on them, that I was going to have to scan and throw away if I would have any chance of moving on, of being able to travel lightly.

Scuba-diving and dumpsters

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