Dream Journal

Lately I’ve been dreaming a lot of stuff about airplanes. Last night I dreamed I was on a plane with a huge number of Scandinavians, who were blond and bearded and looked like Vikings. Just before we landed, everyone got up and stood in the aisle, like we used to do on the activity bus coming home from away games in high school. We were flying into North Carolina from Europe, and everyone was exhausted like we had been on a really long journey. Instead of landing at an airport, the plane landed in the street of a residential neighborhood. We all got out and started walking in the middle of the street through this neighborhood. And walking. And walking. I sprinted past some people up a hill. I remember one of the Scandinavian guys chatting with someone else about going to Johnson City, Tennessee (like the Old Crow song). He was saying that America now felt like home. They also commented on how short the flight had been — it only took us 2 hours to fly in from Europe. Maybe it was in the future when planes will be a lot faster (and affordable?).

A couple of weeks ago, I dreamed I was sky-diving out of a jet that was going to crash. I jumped off the wing and started zooming towards the ground, face first. But it was a lot higher up than a normal plane would be. It was almost like I was sky-diving from the Space Shuttle. I was flying downwards into an expanse of nothingness, but slowly it started to resemble Earth, and then continents, and then blue sky and eventually trees. I finally pulled the parachute and landed easily on the ground, on my feet, again in a neighborhood. Everyone was standing outside their houses in the street watching the plane to see if it would crash. My parents were there. I said, “Did you see me? I was sky-diving!”

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