I’ve always thought it funny how people say you should “dream big.” Maybe it’s because I’m kind of generally unmotivated by traditional measures of success or whatever, but I have no influence over what I dream let alone how big or small it is. Perhaps the people who say such things have more control over things than I do, but my dreams just kind of randomly happen and the only adjective I can attach to them with any consistency is “strange.” I also usually only remember fragments of my dreams—I think I tend to remember more if I wake up during one. Which was the case a couple nights ago…I was dreaming and you, of all people, were there with me. I hope you don’t mind, but again I have no control over these things. Worry not, for it was generally pleasant and quite innocent…
So we were on this airplane and next to us was a very old woman, who seemed very peaceful and kind. The plane took off like normal, but every now and then we would just land on a regular street and drive around like a bus with wings, then take off again for a while. You and I didn’t speak that I remember, but we shared worried glances at the oddity of these landings. I thought the plane’s wings would be chopping down street poles and the like, but couldn’t see the wing (which was behind us) because all the blinds were closed except for yours. Maybe we were in business class, because the leg room seemed ample, but we were three wide--you on the window, the old lady on the aisle and me in the middle. The old woman seemed to sense our perplexity and tried to be comforting. The flight attendant came around several times and offered me (and only me) coffee, which I declined.
I’m not sure if I’m forgetting some part in between, but the next thing I remember is that you and I had arrived somewhere and went swimming in this amazing swimming pool…actually a series of pools. They were multi-leveled and seemed to be almost organically carved out of red rock and terra cotta. We were splashing and smiling and just swimming around doing breaststroke and elementary backstroke and spouting water. It was sunny and beautiful and nobody else was there…and the sky was cloudless and blue. You laughed at the funny tan lines I have from riding my bike. There were chutes between the pools that we’d swim through and the pools seemed to go on and on…some were quite large and others tiny by comparison. Organic as they appeared, it struck me that each pool had the depth painted on the edge and if part of that number was a 9 or a 6 in the depth there was a line underneath the number so you wouldn’t confuse the two…like billiards balls. And that was the last thing I remember about the dream.
So we were on this airplane and next to us was a very old woman, who seemed very peaceful and kind. The plane took off like normal, but every now and then we would just land on a regular street and drive around like a bus with wings, then take off again for a while. You and I didn’t speak that I remember, but we shared worried glances at the oddity of these landings. I thought the plane’s wings would be chopping down street poles and the like, but couldn’t see the wing (which was behind us) because all the blinds were closed except for yours. Maybe we were in business class, because the leg room seemed ample, but we were three wide--you on the window, the old lady on the aisle and me in the middle. The old woman seemed to sense our perplexity and tried to be comforting. The flight attendant came around several times and offered me (and only me) coffee, which I declined.
I’m not sure if I’m forgetting some part in between, but the next thing I remember is that you and I had arrived somewhere and went swimming in this amazing swimming pool…actually a series of pools. They were multi-leveled and seemed to be almost organically carved out of red rock and terra cotta. We were splashing and smiling and just swimming around doing breaststroke and elementary backstroke and spouting water. It was sunny and beautiful and nobody else was there…and the sky was cloudless and blue. You laughed at the funny tan lines I have from riding my bike. There were chutes between the pools that we’d swim through and the pools seemed to go on and on…some were quite large and others tiny by comparison. Organic as they appeared, it struck me that each pool had the depth painted on the edge and if part of that number was a 9 or a 6 in the depth there was a line underneath the number so you wouldn’t confuse the two…like billiards balls. And that was the last thing I remember about the dream.
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