I'm on at the beach or something (location didn't seem to be important). I got into my hotel room to see my boyfriend having sex with fellow vacationer. Upset, I go to the bar in the top floor of the hotel, where I have
a couple drinks and speak with a
man who introduces himself as "Dave." He looks
oddly familiar. After a few minutes of talking, I suddenly recognize him. "You're
David Gilmour!" He continues to comfort me and flies me back home in his
private jet.
I am unhappily awakened by the sound of someone pounding the wall in the apartment nextdoor.
Back in wonderland, I am backstage at a Pink Floyd concert with Dave. Dressed in black, I am one of the backup singers for the show. My boyfriend from the beginning of the dream storms backstage to "rescue" me, feeling horrible for what he had done (I had happily forgotten). Dave has his bodyguards throw him out on his ass. I'm in heaven.