I was standing on top of a surfaced submarine. I jumped into a canoe. There were about four canoes and some other people. We had a guide that was leading us and being encouraging, but as we were paddling the boats filled with water. It wasn’t alarming. The water was warm and the canoes were still buoyant. We made a circuit and paddled back to the submarine.
Later I was on land hiking in the woods. I was going over a hill and the path was very muddy. I was heading back to where ever I was staying, I was supposed to leave the next day. I decided when I got back I would go horseback riding again, because I wanted to do as much as possible before I left. I went upstairs of the house we were staying to change out of my muddy clothes and was accosted by a small, three legged, sorta fat, white Chihuahua, so I was a little distracted from changing to go riding. I called out the window to my sister and asked what this dog’s name was again. There was a whole pack of dogs milling around the property, but this one had latched onto me. They were introduced when we had arrived, but I couldn’t remember back to that part of the dream.
“Which one?” my sister asked. She was sitting below at a picnic table in the sun and she shaded her eyes with her hand to look up at my open window.
“The three-legged one,” I replied.
“I think,” she said, “It’s Miles Davis.”
“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? Yes, Miles Davis is a good boy!”