A First in Dreams

Wow, people; I have something amazing to report to you, and it is this: As of a few nights ago, I had my very first marching band dream.
Our marching band was playing out of state in the dream, though we were still at a Reynolds football game. My dad, in the dream, seemed to be a drum-major type person filling in for Banks and for Mr. James, who didn't seem to be in the dream at all. We entered the stadium to the usual drum line cadence, marching around the perimeter of the indoor field. Coming to our end of the stands, we began to climb the steps of the bleachers, me taking up the rear with this red cowbell thing and a snare stick. The percussionists climbed to the top two rows, the bass drums taking the top row and everyone else sharing the second highest row. I was on the end closest to the stairs; before sitting down, I felt the urge to search in my purse for something, and so I set the red cowbell thing down on my seat along with the snare stick. I rummaged in my purse, found what I was looking for (which, I think, was a phone, though I can't be completely sure) and zipped the purse back up, setting it beneath the seat. Then, when I straightened up to grab the instrument and sit down, I noticed that it was missing. Yanal, who plays the smallest bass drum, assisted me in my search for the cowbell and the stick, but we couldn't find it anywhere. It's sort of ironic, because Yanal has had the misfortune of dropping his bass mallets between the cracks of the bleachers himself on a few occasions. So I was extremely stressed out, because my dream self seemed to think that every piece of stand music would be worthless without the cowbell. As I was bent over, searching around, my dad came up behind me and tapped me on the back.
"Hon," he said grimly, "I'd just give up the search now; You'll just have to pay Mr. James for his cowbell."
And then I was confused, because in the past when Yanal dropped things behind the bleachers, he was usually able to get them back at the end of the game. I told my father this and he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Robyn, but you'll just have to pay for the thing you misplaced." I wanted to argue, but felt very upset and tongue-tied, and so I sat down and said nothing. That was the end of that dream.
I had another interesting one a few days later. It was about my recent trip to Montreat as well as the cruise that we were on just this year, which made the elements of the dream very confusing. For example, at the beginning of the dream, a mixture of the kids from Montreat and the cruise were out in the middle of the ocean, riding in these boats that were very much like charter buses on the inside. The people steering the boats seemed to be our youth group leaders (I know for sure that the captain of my charter boat was Amasa, who is a youth group leader).
Each charter boat had two cloth divisions to distinguish three parts of the boat, much like a first, second, and third class on an airplane; however, it didn't really matter where you sat, so these cloth divisions (which were in the middle of the aisles and which had a beige floral pattern on them) were somewhat pointless. I remember that I had a window seat in what would have been the very back of the entire boat. I was on the left side of the aisle. The window was round, and I could see the rolling sea (which expanded until the ocean met the sky at the horizon) beyond it. There were only three of us at the very back of the boat: a girl whom I don't know by name who went to Montreat, a boy whom I met on the cruise, and myself. The boy was sitting in the seat next to me and the girl sat across the aisle, and was constantly leaning across the space to flirt with and practically paw at the boy from the cruise. He wasn't paying attention; his eyes seemed to be fixed on the headrest of the seat in front of him, but this girl was really irritating me. I was looking out of the window at the ocean, and her loud voice was interrupting my thoughts. Before I got up to move to a different seat, Amasa stuck his head around the curtain and told the girl to be quiet, for he thought that he perceived enemy ships in the water ahead. I don't know why that necessitated her silence, but oh well.
There were three total charter boats in the water, I knew, and ours was the one in front. The boat slowed and as I looked out of the window, I noticed that the one that was directly behind us was pulling slowly alongside our charter boat. Our boats came to a dead halt and we sat there silently for what seemed like an hour. I heard a clap of thunder in the sky and, all of a sudden, buckets of rain fell from a swarm of clouds that turned the sky as black as night. The boats swayed in the turbulent water as we waited for more news of enemy ships.
Just after it seemed that we couldn't wait any longer, a loud crack out in the distance sounded, and we all knew that it wasn't lightning. With a much louder BOOM, the cannon-ball landed on the ceiling of our charter boat and dented it so that it seemed to cave in on the third class section. The boy, the girl, and I stuggled underneath the steel dent and through the cloth division to get to the second class portion, where everyone seemed to be huddled. The boat rocked sideways dangerously, about to roll right over in the water; a spray of ocean water hit those of us near a window that seemed to be leaking.
"Fire the cannons!" Amasa yelled, clutching a steering wheel at the front of the boat. We were moving again, and I could see from one of the windows that we were headed for a distant island that seemed to have a large hotel-like building on it. Our boat was nearly there, traveling at full-speed, with the frightening hollow echoes of the enemy cannons trailing behind us, when I woke up to my alarm going off.