A Dream About a Room in the Ocean

I am on a ship in the middle of the ocean, watching some people getting whipped around by a turbine device floating in the water, attached to the ship by a cable. They are somehow employed to do this, as fishermen-divers or some such, and I am thinking how difficult and unpleasant the activity looks, but also exciting. Next I am under the water with them, swimming to the bottom without air tanks. The water is shallower than I had thought, maybe fifty feet deep and well-lit. We find a room on the ocean floor, and swim inside. Inside is the ruin of an office, with a desk and papers and other items on it and other furniture in the room. It feels like an important discovery, in the formal sense as an archaeological find, but more personally as a place of great beauty, in the sense of 'found' beauty deriving from its obscurity at the bottom of the ocean, the special light, the possibility of finding strange and delightful artifacts, and so on. I am very excited and begin poring through the drawers and gathering papers and pictures and objects quickly. The other people are running out of air and decide to leave, which adds a feeling of urgency, though I myself am not out of breath. There is in fact an air pocket in the room, so you can get your breath and it's not clear why they had to leave. I decide to stay longer, with the sense that I have to leave soon too because they have. I take some pictures of the light coming through the windows, illuminating bits of seaweed and floating papers and rippling of light greens and blues, as in a painting. I take pictures and swim out. The dream ends with an image of journal articles debunking not the existence of the place but the beauty of it, saying that it is in fact very cold, thereby exposing me as a charlatan. There is a picture of the window I had photographed, with jagged bits of glass filling the frame and ice everywhere, and none of the wonderful colors.