. . . . in which i am walking around in a seaside town through twisting and turning roads reminiscent of shorncliffe road area . . . the horizon is crowded with houses and trees and telegraph poles, but i see up above what appears to be, not the red arrows but the blue angels, doing an aerobatics show . . . it seems at first that they are performing incredible feats but as things progress several planes appear to be spinning out, but they dip below my line of sight so it is unclear . . . i hasten toward the beachfront to see better and find a small secluded cove with large rocks and turbulent waves . . . i am somehow swept up in it but sharon comes to my rescue . . . i am impressed that they manage to bring me back toward the beach, but i am concerned about us both being in peril as the tide recedes and we are pushed harshly onto the jutting rocks . . . .
angel