Dreams can come true?

But I really hope this one doesn’t

I don’t have dreams. I suppose ‘I don’t remember dreams’ might be more accurate but whereas Soph has dreams she can remember almost every night (and boy are they usually weird!), I don’t. So perhaps I do have dreams that I can’t remember, or perhaps I just don’t have dreams.

But last night (I’m desperately trying not to quote MLK Jr here) I had a dream.

I was standing on the fuselage of a jet airliner. It was in flight, 30,000 feet.

So I was standing on the fuselage of a jet airliner travelling forward at a couple of hundred miles an hour at a height that would have killed my lungs had I actually been able to stand up with a couple of hundred miles an hour of wind battering my body to bits…

As if that scenario doesn’t stretch reality just a tad too far

I’m standing on the fuselage with a person I actively loathe. There aren’t many of those in this life, but this one heads the list.

His family, like mine, are inside the aircraft; we’re all going on holiday together. And he and I are laughing and joking at 30,000 feet and a couple of hundred miles an hour, when suddenly…

A missile slowly cruises past us. It’s moving slowly because speed is relative, right? It’s relative speed in relation to the ground is massively fast, but it’s relative speed in relation to the aircraft we’re standing on is much less quick.

Jokingly, as it cruises gently past us, I reach up and swat the missle tail with the palm of my hand. Unfortunately this causes it to deviate massively from its pre-programmed course. It careers wildly over the sky and then homes in on and crashes in to one of the engines (Rolls Royce, I saw the badge) of our aircraft.

As the missle strikes, the engine catches fire, the aircraft flips out of control and heads downwards at a massively stupid rate of speed.

He and I slip quietly in to the aircraft and take our seats as if nothing untoward had occurred and we try to not look guilty, in a dum-de-dum kind of way.

Eventually the aircrew regain control of the aircraft, it flattens out of its dive but we’re low enough to see ground features much too clearly.

The aircraft limps on to its destination and we have our holiday. But the guy I was on the fuselage with and I don’t speak to each other for the remainder of the trip.

The end.

Dreams; I don’t have them. Ask anyone. Well no. Not anyone. Just ask someone I’ve slept with for a long time. Not ‘slept with for 18 hours’ kind of slept with for a long time. Slept with as in ‘we have shared a bed for a number of years’. So ask Soph. And she’ll tell you that I don’t have dreams.

But I had that one. I’m going to be spending much of the day looking for various meanings in it, when I’m not busy doing other things. I think my hope is to keep busy doing other things and maybe I will be able to avoid losing my marbles. 🙂

Dreams seem to have figured in a couple of things I’ve read lately. There’s this chapter of Drowning the Silence and there’s this post from A Girl I Dreamt Up.

Are we dreaming more these days or is it just me starting to remember dreams and therefore noticing other people’s?

Bizarre.

B.