42 Dreams of Arizona Bay

For a while now, I haven’t had any dreams worth sharing. Most flit away shortly after waking, too normal to bother holding onto.
Even this dream, I’m missing most of.

There is a huge, football-field sized swimming pool that I’m dying to take a dip into. It seems I live in a tightly-knit community of people, perhaps actors. And I’m returning to the community, and I notice that the pool has been covered. I’m disappointed. I wanted to go swimming.
I poke experimentally at the cover, and notice that it’s quite solid. Someone I know gleefully jumps onto the cover and begins walking. The cover moves a bit, but it’s still solid. A little like walking on a firm water bed.
I get it, the friend is doing performance art, and is walking on water. I shout this out, and he agrees with a grin.
Still, I wanted to go swimming.

But something better is in store. The friend then begins adding grass to the cover, so it’s like walking on an almost solid lawn bed.

Then, in anticipation of a performance, he has a Hummer, of all ungodly heavy things, wheeled out onto the pool cover, and it’s still solid.
I find myself yearning to try out out the grass on top of the water. I find that it also appears to be either freshly mown, or just scattered around in an appearance of grass.
I roll around on the grass behind the Hummer, being careful to make sure that whoever is driving it slowly is not going to back up. I roll all the way to the other end of the pool and then get out.
I’m smiling. I have grass clippings all over, and I try to brush them off.
Another member of the community comes over and starts yelling at the person who put down the grass. It was meant for another purpose, and now tons of it have been wasted.
At this point, I notice that the is indeed fake, as I brush it off. It’s soft and plastic, and almost convincing. I enjoy stroking a blade of grass and marveling at its realness.
And then the woman yelling turns to me and chides me for rolling in the grass, and encouraging my compatriot.
All my happiness is gone. I didn’t know she didn’t want the grass to be used, and I didn’t do any further harm by simply rolling in it.
But she picks off some more of the grass from my shirt, and stomps off in a huff.