Writer's Retreat Dream

I was at a writers retreat, only it was on a boat, and we were mostly wearing things like bikinis and sarongs. my body wasn't my body, but the body of some twenty-year-old lean model-type. There was never any actual writing at this retreat.

not a boat, a ship. but we boarded this other ship first, and then there were all these walkways to our ship, but they were very criss-crossy, so there would be these three bridges and they would say L3, L4, L5 (different levels) but you couldn't just tell by looking at them which one went up, which one went across, which one went down. and there would be little fare gates on them, where you had to have your ticket punched (like on BART)

There seemed to be a lot of field trips, to see monsters (sea monsters)

We were all suspected of some crime, and we were being weeded out, and yet we weren't sure if the ones "kicked out" were going free or going to jail. (were the rest of us the suspects, or cleared of suspicion?)

One of the team members was one of those young angular white men: had a very "military recruit" look, all cropped head and cheekbones. Brad? Buddy?

Stubby, the armadillo-porcupine--a member of our team--found his medication (injectible) missing (along with another team members's comb) and so left to go to someone else's cabin to see if it was there. Almost immediately that someone telephoned to say they had the other guy's comb, and so I'm assuming they also have stubby's medication. I tell them Stubby is on his way over. (Was stubby a character in Reservation Blues, or is that another fantasy?)

Things that may have provided the material for this dream: MLo's film-in-progress of lesbians of color escaping a fascist nudist colony; Robert Johnson's novel MIDDLE PASSAGE, set on a slave ship; the comadres' cruises; the approach of National Novel Writing Month (write a novel in november); three Sherman Alexie novels in a row.