Dreaming of a Jet Plane 8)

I had a dream! 😀 XD This is what I was dreaming right before I was woken up by the sound of Ettie’s persistent howling:

I am sitting on an airplane and to my right a friend from secondary school is sitting. With me I have a gift[ref]Which is actually the Mother’s day gift I bought yesterday :S[/ref] for his girlfriend. (I’ve had a dream about traveling by plane before. All I remember is that the plane landed somewhere that in real life is an old road with some farm houses. In my dream it was paved and surrounded by concrete walls and those plastic roadblocks filled with water/sand.)

We’re going to fly to London, which is only 20 minutes flying – if you ignore checking in of course, which is typical for dream-thinking 😉 – which makes me happy because that’s really short. Before we leave, though, I take a pill against travel sickness because I remember not liking landings one bit when I flew to Japan.

So anyway, we are sitting in the plane that will fly us to the airport where our plane will leave… … :O Recursion, yay! 😉

We arrive at the airport and as soon as I’ve stepped out of the plane, I immediately realize that I’ve left the gift behind; it’s still in the net that hangs from the back of the chair in front of me. We need to check in and everything and I need to follow everyone, so I don’t have time to get the gift. As soon as I have the chance I want to return for it. We follow the rest of the travelers, some of them classmates from secondary school, to a room where we’re seated at tables and we got a lecture about how we’d get fired if our performance is lacking[ref]Job flashback :([/ref] and we’ll be flown back home.

Next, I discover that I still have hair scissors and cat nail scissors in my hand luggage, so I hurry to move it to my suitcase since it’s not allowed to have sharp objects in your handbag. That’s when a load of suitcases are pushed into the room I’m in through what seems to be a garage door and I almost get covered in suitcases. Also, my hand luggage is nearly covered in those suitcases, so I hurry to get it – a woman’s first concern: her hand bag 😀 – and then run back in time to put the scissors in the suitcase and close it. The suitcase miraculously changes into a backpack/suitcase hybrid: As soon I close the lid, the lid is suddenly made of fabric, there are zippers all over it and I close it with straps/buckles (like a backpack from secondary school, you know?). A man takes the suitcase/backpack from me and throws it into a garbage disposal vent where at the bottom it is dumped onto roll-containers which are then rolled towards the airplane. As the room changes into a swirling sea of suitcases to the left and right of me, I hurry to the first plane to find my gift.

Unfortunately, when I get there the plane has already moved on, and so does the dream. Next thing I know I’m running to the lost-and-found department, because I’ve lost my passport. Mind you, I’m not stressed out or anything, I never am even if the dream shows something that in real life would be very disturbing[ref]On the topic of never having fearful dreams: Four weeks ago, I woke up from a nightmare for the first time in about 10 years. In fact, this was the weekend before I got laid off. I don’t remember what the dream was about, but I did come to the conclusion that the job was a wrong situation for me; the nightmare had to do with the stress and insecurity the job gave me. Afterwards, relief set in and I had a lot of vivid dreams (not nightmares) that worked through impressions I had there.[/ref]. I’m not ashamed, stressed or afraid. I’m just walking around purposefully, as if my dream is a game in which you just have to complete some levels.

All my classmates are standing in line, because the lost-and-found is apparently the same room as the check-in. When I get there, there are several stacks of passports and I start to check each passport for my name. Classmates start to help and eventually I find a white leather passport that has my name on the cover. I cheer and open the passport, but when I do the year of birth is wrong (should be 1984 but it says 1982). Disappointed, I put the passport down. As I walk away, a classmate shouts that he found my passport and is holding a thick black leather book. This passport is obviously not my passport since it is waaaayy too old and must obviously belong to an old man. I laugh, mock-hit my classmate, who is also laughing, on the back of his head for teasing me and walk away.


[references class=”compact” /]

0 Replies to “Dreaming of a Jet Plane 8)”