Psychic Departure Bunny Lounge

Nightmare at 20,000 Feet

So I had a dream the other night, no doubt fueled by the drinking of large amounts of Maredsous 8*. It was a nightmare, actually. I haven't had nightmares in awhile although I do have extremely vivid dreams. I can't blame the vividness on medication, though, because I've always had vivid dreams. This one, however, was disturbing because it was about an airplane crash. I happened to be on the airplane.

It was a jet, actually. Probably a Boeing 777 or 767 because there were two seats by the window rather than the squishy DVT-inducing three seat configuration of the Boeing 727, 737, 757 or Airbus 319 or 320 (why, yes, I have flown a fair amount in my life).

The dream was disturbing because it felt so real. This is how it went.

Sweetie and I were on an airplane when the engines failed. The "purser" (as they are now called, can you believe it? made me giggle all four legs of our last flights. I mean, like purser is going to give them more respect than flight attendant? Anyway). So our airplane was crashing and the purser was giving us instructions on how to brace ourselves for impact but we all knew we were going to crash into the ocean and die anyway since the airplane was taking a sickening nosedive. The purser's instructions were so matter-of-fact. Although, now that I think back on it, we were all in shock. No one screamed or cried. Maybe someone whimpered. Maybe it was me. I remember grimacing. I recall hearing things like "at 20,000 feet, you will begin to notice some gravitational pull" and "at 10,000 feet, the plane will begin to spin out of control" and "at 900 feet, you will no longer be conscious."

I suspect that none of those statements is true. Especially, not to my dream-self, since I was conscious until the moment of impact. At the moment of impact, everything went bright white. There was nothing, nothing at all for a moment.

That was when the movie ended. A disembodied voice then thanked us for watching the instructional video and hoped that we had a safe rest of the day. There was deathly silence in the theatre. Sweetie and I didn't speak, didn't move for a long time. When we finally got up and left, it was into the bright, outdoors, yet that did not dissolve the heavy feeling on us.

I rationalize that the ending was something my brain threw in at the last moment to make it feel a bit less real, since no one is supposed to die in their dreams, right? At 6:21 am on Sunday, though, it was difficult to get over the extreme feeling of terror (there was no relief for awhile). The dream was a bit like the Bright Eyes video that I know has Terrence Stamp and I think Evan Rachel Wood in it. I can't recall the song at all, something about a plane crash and a birthday party. I didn't like the song much but I did like the feeling of the video. It had a rather dreamlike quality. Funny, though. I don't think I've seen that video in months.

It also brought to mind the Pop Will Eat Itself song named in the title.

* This is my new favorite beer. In case you've missed my raving about it elsewhere.

( 05:49 FH | dreams. )