In this dream, I am stuck in a semi-submerged tanker. Not a very big one but its central hold - the size of a small swimming pool - is filling up with water and the whole rusty contraption is listed to one side. I am beating the water to keep some creatures down. Not sure what but they are ferocious. I try to climb up the side ledge of the tanker even as I try to hold on and defend myself.
There are two other people with me in the tanker, each trying to survive from what's in the water.
The scene changes. Shots are being fired at a wall. They blast through leaving holes grouped rather close together. Shots fired from close range?
My family is trying to get out. For some reason, we are being pursued. We fire back.
As we retreat, I set up booby traps, the kind that employ a string, a can and a hand grenade.
We leave as the building blasts from the inside, throwing a black cloud of dust outwards and upwards through the doorway - or what used to be a doorway. The blast also throws us to the ground.
We cough, pick ourselves up and dust off. We see a gap in a fallen wooden fence and race through it.
On the other side, a pack of wolves lies waiting. I leap over and start to bash the wolves left and right. I don't feel good hitting them as I quite like wolves for their bravery and intelligence. But hey, when bark turns to bite, I rather not be the one to be bitten!
The wolves put up a fight but it is only temporary. They scatter soon enough when someone comes running with a torch of fire. That person is rather manic, swinging his torch as if fending off unseen zombies.
I look down and am surprised to find myself and my family up a tree. We can see the shapes of wolves running away. However, a band of orcs is climbing up the side of the hill and shouting to burn us down. Wait, am I in The Hobbit movie? In a moment, Gandalf comes riding on a giant eagle and whisks us away. I know, in The Hobbit, Gandalf is also rescued by the eagles, not riding shotgun like some hero coming in as a savior.
We pass through clouds and I find myself on solid ground again. My family is not with me, only an old girlfriend. When the clouds clear, we find ourselves on a rocky shore. A lighthouse is not far in front. It appears we are back at Cabo da Roca, a remote tourist attraction (or rock outcrop) that bills itself as the furthest point west of the European continent. A few buildings surround the lighthouse. There isn't much to see except for a sign that proclaims the significance of the place. I think anybody who turns up here will take a picture with that sign. We do the same.
Afterwards a guy insists we stay to take photos for the others. After a while, we flee. The road is an isolated country road that winds down a hill. Fortunately a bus comes along and we hop on. Sometime later we arrive at a village. The streets seem too narrow for the bus but it manages to squeeze through though.
We arrive and stop at a cafe that bills itself as the place for Fado, a kind of Portuguese music. We enter and sit down for a drink of coffee. A small band plays while a lady sings.
The song appears sad but nice to listen to. It is no different from what Edith Piaf used to sing, I think. As the sun sets, we make our way out of the cafe and head to a place for grilled sardines. We could see lights and smoke and soon, someone operating a grill. My girlfriend and I smile at each other as we take a slow leisurely stroll towards where the smell of grilled fish and onions is coming from. We feel happy and content.