Persian Rugs and Pirates (A Dream Sequence)

The scene opens with a woman holding the hands of two children: a young girl on her left and an even younger boy on her right. The woman drops the girl's hand - my hand - and turns to the boy, caressing his face with the palm of her hand. I hear nothing but know they are somehow communicating. They walk to a bench and sit.
The bench faces east and they therefore sit staring at the shrubbery around them rather than the lake at their backs, and I take the time to note the absurdity of that before wandering towards the lake myself.
I carefully step into the water, feeling mud squeeze up in between my toes, and begin to walk out. I walk until only my head protrudes from the water, knowing that I am surely being dangerous, then turn to see my mother and the boy on the bench. She has yet to turn from the boy - has yet to notice I am gone - and so I continue walking.
I know I should be floating by now, but my feet stay solid on the floor of the lake; I should be drowning by now, but my lungs breathe easily.
Without knowing how long I have been walking, I suddenly make out a bubble ahead of me. It rests on the floor of the lake like a dome and as I approach I see that it is nearly the size of my 2 story house. I walk through the bubble and, though being fully submerged in the lake had not affected me, notice that I am dry and breathing air again.
The floor in front of me is covered in a huge ornate Persian rug. The body is maroon and the designs are comprised mostly of navy and tan. I am staring at the rug, admiring the detail, when a pair of black boots with silver toes enters the edge of my vision.
I look up slowly - so slowly that my head seems to swim with thoughts of an entire year before I finally meet eyes with the owner of the boots. I recognize curiosity and hostility in his eyes and wonder which will outweigh the other. I glance back to the shore line - seeing through miles of murky water - and see that my mother has yet to turn. I recognize that the man in front of me is a pirate, and as that thought enters my mind two more appear - one on either side of him.
The edges of my vision blur and a series of mumbles are exchanged. I don't register any words but  emerge from the conversation knowing that I could join them if I would like to. "But my mother will worry about me, she will want me back," I think.
But as I give one last look to her on the bench I see that she has the boy, and that is all she needs, so I turn back to the pirates and step across the beautiful rug to join their flanks, never to look to my mother again.