I was with Bob (from Papa John's) and we were at my old house in Virginia (mom's and Pat's (step-father) current house) I don't remember how it started up, but there was something about somehow "falling" and landing on top of this huge mountain that was kind of in our back yard (over where grandmamma's trailer is) and skiing down the side. I know that either I was trying to get Bob to try it out, or he was trying to get me to try it out, but either way, we each had a set of small skis that we were supposed to use.
I remember something at one point about getting into a dark colored car (which was sitting between the chicken house and the other building) with Bob and some other people, but I don't remember exactly what we were doing. It almost seems like we were going to drive up to the mountain (even though the only way to ski was to "fly" and then fall onto the mountain and take it from there.)
Soon after this, we were wanting to do this again (evidently we had already done it at least once) and we went out in back of the kitchen again, but all we could see in that direction were clouds. We were waiting for it to clear, and there was something about thinking that maybe the mountain was no longer there. As we discussed this and stood and watched as the clouds swirled around and such, it seemed that we were almost arguing over it, but not in a negative manner. It was a positive argument, almost as how one might argue philosophies that they ran they're life with.
After a short while, the clouds finally started to clear, and whoever said that the mountain was gone was right. It had vanished, almost like the mountain itself was made of snow and had melted away. Realizing that we now had nothing to do, we were bored, and the dream ended.
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