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I was in a hotel somewhere that was like The Grey Gull, that hotel at Ocean Shores I sometimes frequent. In this dream I was in room 237; I don’t know if the Grey Gull actually has a room 237 in real life but in this dream it did. I recall seeing the actual numbers of 2, 3 and 7 as they were on the door to our hotel room. The letters were kind of spindly, dark black and gold colored in a roman gothic type font and about 2 inches high. I was sharing the room with some other people whom I vaguely remember, Peter Peckster being one of them. I remember being in the room and getting a phone call from the management of the hotel. It was a woman speaking and she informed me that I wasn’t really supposed to be in room 237 but actually in room 203. I was kind of upset with this woman for apparently transferring me to another room because I guess I had paid to be in room 237 which, in this dream, costs more than to be in room 203, although room 203 was a much nicer room, the room that my family and I usually get when we go there (which in real life is room 301, not 203). I was telling this woman exactly that, and that since she was moving me to room 203 then I needed to be reimbursed for the difference between the two rooms. I explained this to her, sounding mildly upset I suppose, and there was silence for a long time. It was around 10 seconds later when she finally spoke and mentioned something to me about how she needed me to move to room 203 and she never did reply to my inquiry about having to pay more. Apparently I was going to be in room 203 by myself, not sharing it with a soul, so actually I shouldn’t have complained about it. Whatever the case, the phone conversation ended and I began to pack a suitcase that I had apparently brought with me on this trip. I remember having the suitcase open near a wall on the side of a staircase. As you faced the wall the staircase went up to the left, the first step on the right, and on the left-hand side of the white wall was a door that probably led to a basement; a typical staircase setting that I have probably seen in multiple movies. I was down on the floor by this doorway with the suitcase open, piling things into it. The suitcase was a medium-sized dull red model, much like one I own now, and there was that thin divider flap thing attached to one end and among this was a white dress shirt that was thrown sloppily into the suitcase. I got the feeling that everything else I packed into the suitcase was also thrown in there in a messy fashion, figuring I really didn’t need to be fussy about my packing because I was just going from one room to the next.
I was walking along a rocky beach that kind of reminded me of the one along Case Inlet by the property my folks used to own many years ago. I had climbed down a cliff and then met the beach that way. I was wearing a bathrobe and underneath that I was wearing only a shirt and no pants. There were two women there also walking along the beach that I can remember little to nothing about, other than they were of the average height and build and one of them had shoulder-length black hair, maybe a little longer than that. These two women walked in front of me 20 feet away. I remember coming across a stretch of the beach that was 30 feet from the water, and the sand here was really muddy. I took a step and my foot sunk into the mud about a foot or so. The next thing I recall is being in the water, waist high. The women, who were still in front of me, also had to walk into the water because we had come across an obstruction on the beach, a bunch of branches or a small cove or something, and therefore we had to walk out into the water to get around this thing in the way. This area reminded me of the place along the beach at Case Inlet where there was that big blowout because a pond or damn something further up along the hill was too bloated with water and burst at the seams. The women in front of me made it out of the water and back onto shore and continued walking on, but I was having problems. I got into the water, was about chest deep in the stuff, and tried to continue walking on but then my feet sank into the soft sand at the bottom of the bay and suddenly I started to panic. My feet sank deeper and deeper into the mud of the bay bottom and I could remember the water level reaching my chin. It was a strange feeling here, because I felt like the dream could have just ended at this point and I would have drowned but something inside my mind, not really a lucid-dream state, but I felt that what I was meant to see in this dream had not yet happened so therefore I was spared the continued sinking that would have caused my death. My feet eventually found solid ground on the bay bottom and I was able to continue walking in the water without sinking into the mud below. It could have been that I saw the women up on the beach and they had made it, so I thought what’s my problem? If they were able to walk through the water here without sinking then I should be able to as well. Therefore, I felt my feet find solid ground and continue to step onward. Eventually I made it back onto the beach and continued walking along with the two women still slightly ahead of me. We finally came upon a house that reminded me of the house/lodge/place that Lisa, myself, our kids, Betty, Amanda, and all of us stayed at in April of 2000 near the entrance of Mountain Rainier. It was like my mother owned this place so we were able to stay here free of charge. So suddenly we were in this house. In the upstairs there was a kitchen and the cupboards had stuff in them like canned fruit and other assorted groceries. There was a door just off to the left of the kitchen that, when opened, led to a downstairs area which could have been a basement or just a lower level/living space in this house. We went exploring and checked out all the nooks and crannies of this place. Somewhere along here I noticed that there was someone else in the house; a man. I don’t know who he was or what he was doing here. He looked to be in his late 20s or early 30s, and seemed nice enough.
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