I love dreams. Dreams - the ones you have when you're sleeping...not the ones you think of when you're stuck in traffic, the sun beating down on you, your air conditioner isn't working and you just want to be anywhere but there. I like the ones I can remember and have a chuckle at. I still remember one I had in grade one that included Chris Adams and Jamie Bateman, a prison, black and white striped uniforms and Frankenstein. Don't know why that one always stuck with me, but well, it always has. I wish I remembered more of my dreams. The good ones. The ones that I wake up smiling to. I don't know why we have them, but I know they are significant to us, these dreams.
For the past 15 years I have had a dream. It's not been a nice one and it varies - however, it always involves an airplane and fear. It goes something like this. I am on the jet plane with a whole schwack of other passengers. The plane either has engine failure, landing gear failure or there is bad weather. Every time I am on this plane I am in a different location. Sometimes I am in Asia, other times Canada, sometimes a city, a jungle or a rural area. These are the logistics that continually transition. What never changes is the near death experience I have with each flight / dream. We can't land, we land on highways, we dip, we climb, we crash through bridges, try to find a way to survive it. And it just keeps on happening. Over and over, my plane ride flounders and fails. There have also been dreams where I never get on the plane...something dramatic happens to me at the airport. Each time I have experienced this dream, I wake up sweating, trying to calm myself down and reassure myself I am indeed alive and not on a engine propelled cloud skimmer. But nonetheless these "dreams" haunt me. They scare me. I have hated having them...
Until now. Last month I had a dream. I stole a jet from the air force. Not just a jet - a wickedly fast and furious jet. And this time I was the pilot. I didn't crash. I didn't run out of gas and my landing gear wasn't malfunctioning. Instead, I flew around, fast. I do believe I had a co pilot (I can't remember exactly who) and when the problem arose, like it always does when I am flying, I found a field and landed the jet. I landed it well. I landed it securely. I got out of the cockpit and took a walk and saw the military vehicles swarming the jet, looking for me and I just scoffed and walked away. Confident cause I just landed that sucker. This was the very first time I had ever landed the plane. The plane in my previous dreams never landed...and if it did, it wasn't done well and was terrifying. This jet, however, was all my doing and I woke up from the dream knowing I did it. I woke up with a smile on my face.
Now, I could just say, I just had a good dream. But I truly don't' think that's just it. It isn't so simple. There is a reason there are books and fields of study done on dreaming. Dreams mean things.
I don't think it would take a brain surgeon to realize the meaning behind my dream. I am a simple girl and even I can see it for what it is, even if I don't fully feel it. My sense of security is still lacking, however, somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind I am growing a confidence and strength I never knew I had. I am so glad I had that dream. I keep thinking about it and know it's going to help me get through what ever lies ahead.
For the past 15 years I have had a dream. It's not been a nice one and it varies - however, it always involves an airplane and fear. It goes something like this. I am on the jet plane with a whole schwack of other passengers. The plane either has engine failure, landing gear failure or there is bad weather. Every time I am on this plane I am in a different location. Sometimes I am in Asia, other times Canada, sometimes a city, a jungle or a rural area. These are the logistics that continually transition. What never changes is the near death experience I have with each flight / dream. We can't land, we land on highways, we dip, we climb, we crash through bridges, try to find a way to survive it. And it just keeps on happening. Over and over, my plane ride flounders and fails. There have also been dreams where I never get on the plane...something dramatic happens to me at the airport. Each time I have experienced this dream, I wake up sweating, trying to calm myself down and reassure myself I am indeed alive and not on a engine propelled cloud skimmer. But nonetheless these "dreams" haunt me. They scare me. I have hated having them...
Until now. Last month I had a dream. I stole a jet from the air force. Not just a jet - a wickedly fast and furious jet. And this time I was the pilot. I didn't crash. I didn't run out of gas and my landing gear wasn't malfunctioning. Instead, I flew around, fast. I do believe I had a co pilot (I can't remember exactly who) and when the problem arose, like it always does when I am flying, I found a field and landed the jet. I landed it well. I landed it securely. I got out of the cockpit and took a walk and saw the military vehicles swarming the jet, looking for me and I just scoffed and walked away. Confident cause I just landed that sucker. This was the very first time I had ever landed the plane. The plane in my previous dreams never landed...and if it did, it wasn't done well and was terrifying. This jet, however, was all my doing and I woke up from the dream knowing I did it. I woke up with a smile on my face.
Now, I could just say, I just had a good dream. But I truly don't' think that's just it. It isn't so simple. There is a reason there are books and fields of study done on dreaming. Dreams mean things.
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