Riff on an old dream

Hot, sunsoaked sand warmed my toes after a dip in the cold Atlantic. I sat in a cheap, low beach chair squinting out and the glistening water. Some tweens splashed around in the waves while a stereo sang further down the beach. The guitar sounded familiar, but I couldn't make it out. Sand crunched underfoot as a man wearing only a speedo and Oakleys walked up to me holding a giant cocktail umbrella over his shoulder. I shaded my eyes to get a better look right before he jabbed the sharp end right through my chest, pinning me to the beach. I felt it pierce my skin, scrape a rib, slice through the meat of my right lung, straight through the other side until it crunched into the sand. He popped open the pink, crepe-paper shade and pulled another chair next to me. Blood pumped up from the wound, rolling down my torso. I could feel the hot sand sticking to the exit wound as it pooled underneath me. My lung tightened around the bamboo pole as I gasped for breath. He sat down in the shade of the umbrella and crossed his legs, staring at the shining water as I had a moment ago. I felt my life draining away until I died and woke up.