Surfing contest, Waimea Bay

I found myself enrolled in a surf competition at Hawaii's infamous Waimea Bay. I don't know what I must have been thinking to get myself into that position, but I was part of a long queue of people who were basically out to commit suicide for public entertainment. Wiamea has some of the largest, gnarliest waves on the planet, and here I was, with my barely functional swimming abilities, getting ready to go into the water and--what? Try to catch a wave? Ha. 

As it got nearer to my turn, I seriously considered the chickening out option. Surely, there would be understanding. My enrollment had been a mistake anyway, right? The waves were many and gigantic, there having been a storm recently. The peaks towered to inappropriate heights, with foam icing capping their tops. They just looked angry. 

Richard Leon and his wife Gloria (she was still with him in the dream) were slowly edging their way out of the spotlight and were about to take the coward's exit back away from the ocean. First Gloria, then Richard slipped out of view behind some railings and became spectators instead of contestants. 

My turn was getting nearer. I looked down the back of an enormous waterfall as a wave broke. This is the part where cowards who didn't commit usually get sucked over the falls and pay the penalty for their hesitation. I knew to get out of there, so I turned around and got myself out of there. 

Matt Brown was still hanging around, the only friend I had who actually stood a chance of riding any waves of that caliber. He seemed to think I should stay, but I was firmly against it. The waves were just too damn scary, and I knew my limitations. I woke up with things still in flux, but I believe I had made my decision. Too bad, since it was a dream and I could have done whatever I wanted, free from consequences.