I rarely dream of surf: only once before last night. If I do dream of surf, I'm never surfing. Both dreams have taken place in the same make-believe setting where cliffs and stairs and boardwalks and limestone caves meet sand and water. Both times my surf was stopped by bad conditions. The first dream, the tide came high and flooded people's cars and sunk them into the sand. The second dream, last night, just as I was about to hop in, I noticed that the top layer of the water had frozen over. An ice floe.
I don't know what this means. I know that I used to get up and surf every day. I don't even get up any more. I think I've grown so picky about what waves I surf that it's coming out my subconscious.