I never looked for heaven much until we put you in the ground

Its all Im doing now looking for patterns in the sound of an endless static sea.
Driving down Bristol road, definitely in my early twenties, the scene is the same except for where I-75 goes over Bristol there is a huge lake, so Bristol road is a bridge over a lake with a bridge over it. I pull up to the stoplight and see a school bus fly off the bridge into the lake. Everyone else in the world blinked at that exact second and missed the whole thing, for some reason in the dream I have that knowledge. Just as the light turns green I throw open the car door and sprint towards the bridge. The bus is still visible at the surface of the water, but no one else seems to notice it. I dive in without hesitation off the bridge, into the murky blue lake. (My need to help others?) I swim up to the bus, now sinking quickly and peer into the windows, I have no need for oxygen, faces peer back, they are all my face, all around twelve or fourteen years old, then one by one they all close their eyes (I can only assume loss of innocence or faith). At this point I am punching at the window so hard my hand is bleeding. One buy one all the little mes dissolve except for one in the back of the bus, I swim to it and put my hands on the window. It is blue and its eyes are closed. Suddenly it opens its eyes and smacks the window. I gasp and my lungs fill with water. I am now aware of my need for oxygen, I am drowning, but I do not swim for the surface. I pound the window with less and less strength. Then someone grabs my collar and I can feel myself being dragged to the surface, I look towards my savior an angelic interpretation of my mother (Some sort of guardian "Angel" perhaps). I make it to the surface and on to the pavement, but somehow no one notices my savior. There is a crowd now all concerned about why I jumped into the lake and I desperately try to tell them, but I can not stop choking up water, gallons and gallons of water. (Something to do with not being able to find what I am looking for?) The dream ends.
It is not December and it is not February, I do not know why you are haunting my dreams in January, but the naive side is telling me you are trying to tell me something. My logical side is telling me I am trying to find you, to construct an after life for you, because I think it is what you deserve.