All I can remember now is that I was at some sort of gathering of families: mine, The Smiths, The Gillespies. I saw a fishing pole and thought that it was my dads so I took it to the water (the ocean) and tried to fish. I caught something but jerked up the line too fast and ripped a section of fish off. I decided to use that for bait. At the end of the line were six fish hooks - the kind with a double hook so that they would be sure to catch. There was an orange dock that everyone (the kids) was standing on. The waves got bigger and bigger. Then they were HUGE. I kept on fishing. It was out of control. Every time I pulled in the line my fingers would get caught on the hooks and the hooks would stick into my fingertips and I'd have to rip them out. Everytime I got one loose another would catch. A huge wave ripped apart the dock. Everyone swam to shore. I wore bandaids on my sliced fingers. [Smiths, Gillespies = family friends from when I was very young]