We were in a shed of some sort... looked like it was an outdoor church. The walls were wooden and the floor was made of earth. Clearly what we did not know was that this enclosure would turn into a tide pool when the tide rolled in. So in it rolled and the structure structure was instantly flooded. There was hysteria from all of the people, scrambling to get ourselves and whatever we could out. It was in the chaos that I realized that my 1950’s Gibson J45 had been washed away. I searched through the crown and cried at the top of my lungs as the horror of losing my precious instrument sunk in. When I looked again, I saw the instrument floating a few feet ahead of me. I dove toward it, as if it were a drowning child, desperate to save it.
I was able to retrieve it. I assessed the damage and one of the tuning pegs and another peg from the neck (not on the guitar in real life) were gone. I was screaming that this was the only possession that actually mattered to me and it can’t be ruined. I was crushed and then I woke up before I was able to see if it dried out.
Don't know what this dream was all about, but I certainly make more of a point of picking up and playing my precious instrument multiple times a day. The thought of losing her was way too much.