I was at the end of a traveling dream, which involved painting small toy mascots onto the side of a train. I am unsure, but the mascots were supposed to go with a team (a dance team?) somewhere. I was somewhere vaguely institutional, like a dormitory or a hotel.
I was going to, or had returned from a shower; the shower complex was a hexagonal or octagonal building on a concrete slab in the middle of a wheat field. In the dream, I was upset about something, so I walked a short distance from the building and into the field. My hair was half-way down my back. I was barefoot and only wearing jeans. I was slightly more buff (more like less flabby) than I am in real life.
The sun was about a handspan off of the eastern horizon, beaming light and heat over the golden field. At the same time, it was raining, and rain was running down my hair. The sun and rain limned my chest and arms. I was sad-disappointed-angry-resigned (the cause has not come to me as I'm writing this). And I began to dance, a kind of sweeping dance, my hair trailing behind me. Slow, pulsing music played (not any song I recognize waking), something with a World Beat that may have involved a clarinet. I jumped into the air and flipped, in slow motion, staying in the air for ten seconds or more. (My sense waking is that it was like I was a silk dancer, only without the silk holding me up.) My shadow on the ground all curves. It crossed my mind that if I were dreaming, I'd be flying. I rose in the air about five feet and slowly spun out my feeling; my feet slightly above me as I turned above the grain -- the light and rain on my body, my hair trailing, my shadow whirling arcs.
...and then I woke up, having overslept.
