The Crocodile's Daughters

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On the night of February second, I had two most unusual dreams.

First, I was floating hundreds of feet below the surface of the ocean, looking up through seemingly endless gradations of dim blue light. I was telling the story - proleptically, I assume -  of how I'd made it to the surface, despite the odds. As I began to swim upwards, though, I began to wonder if this wasn't just a comforting story, one I was telling myself to disguise the fact that I hadn't made it after all.

There was music in the dream, very fitting:

The second dream was more complex. In it, it had been discovered that an author had left behind an unpublished manuscript when she'd died. It told the story of a researcher who'd become aware of a race of shapeshifters, the daughters of Sobek, the crocodile god of the Nile. The daughters, in their human form, blended seamlessly with humanity. The only clue to their true nature was their ability to disappear completely. Therefore, the researcher could only trace the presence of the shapeshifters through their absence. 

I woke up feeling uneasy. The dreams had seemed alien to me, profoundly foreign. As if I'd got someone else's dreams by mistake. 

The meaning is unclear.

Or perhaps it's that I don't want to know.