I was around ten when I dreamed that I, out deep in what I believe were the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, was sailing in a dinghy at high speeds with some other, random fellows when a tough wave had knocked me overboard. They then sped away quickly, not having noticed that I had been cast into the ocean waters, and a large container ship then emerged behind me, just tens of meters away, presumably without my struggling self in its sights at all. I remember that rush of fear I had as it gained speed in such quickness in its approach, sucking me under it with all of the force that the unfortunacy of that actually happening would have, crushing my dream-self under its uproarious pressures. It was such a helpless feeling, water choking my nostrils as I gasped a salty taste. It certainly frightened me, as I was only recently learning how to swim at around that age, and the dream seemed very vivid. Thankfully, it scared me awake, and I remember hopping out of bed right afterward on that weekend morning and watching a Markiplier video to ease the fright.