I was on an airplane this morning with a grandfather. Not one of my grandfathers, because they're all dead. Some nice old man, not in the best of health. He had the window seat. I got to look around inside the plane. I don't remember much about that.
Suddenly there was a noise and the plane started diving to the right, and it was very hard to stay in my seat. I and others were spilling in to the aisle. I was kind of worried. It's not supposed to do that, eh? I climbed back in to my seat, and the old man helped us get seat-belted in. The seat was a big comfy seat where we shared a lap belt and had our own shoulder restraints.
The plane spun downward. It was really disconcerting. As we flew under a highway overpass I noted that we were in an industrial area, clogged inexplicably with trains of all sorts, like some model railroader's storage box. I thought that was nice.
Then I also thought we are in serious trouble and very soon I realized that we were about to crash, and best I could tell we were also most likely going to be dead. I was upset because I was dying so young, and was disappointed that I did not believe in the afterlife and wondered what it might be like in case it were true as I was likely to find out really really soon now.
And then I was pissed because my family would be sad. My mother would ...
My mother would not take it well.
And I felt really bad for that.
Then there was a calm moment, and I thought maybe people should pray. The old man next to me said a few words to make peace with his God, and just for good measure, I said something or other, I crossed myself, and then I glanced out the window a hot second, saw us spinning madly towards the ground, and I closed my eyes and ...
I was dead.
Was I dead? A few quiet moments. No, I'm not dead. Well, where am I? Not the afterlife? I opened my eyes and saw blue. A hospital?
It was the blue futon in the living room I had fallen asleep on the night before, wrapped in mom's quilt.
This is not the sort of dream that I normally have. I toyed with the idea as to whether it just might be a premonition. Who was the old man? Should I call Grandma? No, more than I don't believe that sort of thing I don't want to bother Grandma with my superstition. Maybe it is a note to self to do better with my life, as you never know when the airplane goes spinning out of the sky.
I like premonition though, metaphorically. I had been concerned about the old man a few minutes earlier. I don't remember exactly what was happening, but he was coughing or something. After expressing concern, he was fine. We were going somewhere together. Apart from the crew, he was the only person I noticed. But then the plane crashed. But then it crashed toward lots and lots of trains, and I think trains are neat. We crashed towards Heavan? Or do trains represent temptation, and the Heavenly flight on which I was accompanying the old man fell out of the sky because I wasn't paying attention?
Usually the Angel of Death knows about his position, I like to think.
Anyhow, maybe it is time to get dressed. Also, I am pretty confident I don't want to bother with those American cheap fares I had considered the other day for an impromptu flight the next weekend or two.
18 May
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30 May
/journal
dannyman.toldme