I was in Hawaii at the beach with thousands of other people, mostly kids, and my two sons, (in yet another dream where they were much younger than they are in real life). We rented these small surfboards that had a big umbrella attached to them. Everyone would hitch a ride on a special boat while riding them, and then when we got to the outer island, let go and ride the surf back in.
I was wearing clothes over my bathing suit. I didn't want anyone to see my body. I felt old and fat. I decided after I got to the island, that I didn't care anymore, so I took off my wet clothes and took an inordinate amount of time putting them and other objects into a package. The boys left; everyone left. I was alone and my umbrella was broken. An old lady tried to help me out, and I ended up with another umbrella, but again, I had that awful feeling of being alone and friendless, and having to pretend it didn't matter, both inside and outside, and that it was okay.
Half of the fun part of doing things is doing them with other people, after all. I paddled off into the waves, trying to enjoy the beauty of the islands and the ocean, and ignoring the feeling of being alone and isolated.