on the ropes

I am on a large sailboat floating on a turbulent sea that is covered with green algae. A woman is with me on the boat, but I don’t know who she is. The boat is anchored, but I can tell that it only serves to keep it from moving too much, and the anchor is dragging on the bottom of the ocean floor as we are pushed around. We are surrounded by massive rocks that look like miniature mountains, and the sky is a uniform orange. I found myself on this boat out-of-nowhere — I have no recollection of which shore it cast off. I climb a couple ropes that support the sail’s mast, and find myself dangling very high off the boats deck. I’m struck with a fear, and I don’t know how to get down without hurting myself. I do though. I find myself climbing these ropes from time to time for no apparent reason, and I’m always confused as to how I will get down. There is a cubby filled with change, and I keep checking to see if it’s still there, running my fingers over it; and I wonder if I will be able to keep it when we get to where we are going. If we are going anywhere. . . . ♨

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