Emerald Wolf

I am at the beach amid some boulders, talking to someone who is putting on a set of chainmail armor to demonstrate the appearance of historical attire. They then put on rubber and neoprene boots (that are typicaly paired with wetsuits) and, not noticing that this is anachronistic, I point out that they are great for walking over the rocky areas one can find in these sort of locations.
I then climb up onto a nearby boulder to get a better view of the area (noticing as I do so that some members of my family are here as well). From here I can see that the force of the waves is increasing. They build up in a large swell before crashing down onto the beach, which has a bit of a tunnel-like shape here on account of the boulders. The first wave reaches to the bottom of my feet and I can see that the next one will reach even higher as it breaks before the previous one has receeded. I brace for the impact, though it is not as bad as I feared and doesn't dislodge me from my spot. It does however knock off my father's glasses as he was sitting lower and closer to the sea and I think that someone should get them before they are washed away.

There is a field with an underground system of bunkers that are joined together. At some points in the field low drum-like exit points jut out of the ground with a slit in them to serve as observation posts as well. At some point a few people escape from the bunkers (which are being invaded) and take shelter at an old hotel that feels like it belongs in a WW2 movie.

I am in a kitchen with my elder sister vaguely wandering what it was that I was looking for. Considering the room I am in I conclude that I must have wanted to make myself something to eat but I can't recall what I wanted to have. On a nearby breadbox is half of a mince pie but I remind myself that I've made a point to not eat non-fish meat any more. I start hearing a whistling tune and recognize the source as my mother's pet cockatiel.
Turning a corner into a niche that houses a fridge I spot the bird sitting on a birdstand. He doesn't look all that healthy, missing feathers and having a greenish tint to his skin. As I am looking at the bird he starts doing drunken loop-de-loops and I worry that there is definately something wrong with the bird. The wrongness I'm sensing makes me ask my sister if I'm dreaming and she answers with an indifferent "no, you're not". When I look back at the bird he now looks perfectly fine. I don't trust my sister's answer so I move away from her to a different part of the kitchen so that I can practice some dream control.
I raise my right hand cupped, palm up and focus on creating a ball of light or fire but only manage to get a weak glow to hover over the surface of my palm. Thats not too impresive but I feel inspired to do something with it so I punch my left hand over my right, open-palmed while muttering "Atar-kum-nash-me". The glow disipates forward but produces no noticable results. Looking out of the window in the wall in front of me I get an urge to do some flying so I levitate myself off the ground and with my hands outstretched I phase right through the wall and into the air outside. I manage to stay airborn and count to three before the dream stops.