Flying In A Blue Dream

I had the most wonderful dream a couple of weeks ago. It took place in the evening, and everything was the most beautiful shade of blue, as though looking through blue-shaded sunglasses. I remember seeing that the north-western coast of California was crumbling away into the ocean—huge chunks of cliffs nearly a mile high (land is almost always mountainous in my dreams) were falling little by little. Then myself along with some other guy and a girl flew to Alaska in a helicopter (the girl was piloting). We were somehow going to save California by doing something there. When we got to the bay around Prince William Sound, us guys dropped into the water from an altitude of a couple hundred feet (would have killed us in the waking world), and I remember how wonderful it was sinking to the bottom of the bay and coming back up where everything looked so stunning in that blue night air. The water felt so nice, and everything seemed so utterly real for a dream. I began to swim for the shore to meet up with my comrade when I awoke, so I didn't get to see how we would save California. Darn! But it was about the nicest dream I ever had. Maybe it means there's hope for the world or something.