the dreams have started

I am a nervous flyer. I think a plane crash would be a horrible way to die. Yes, there are thousands of horrible ways to die, but that’s beside the point. And yes, I know the chances of being in a plane crash are minute, but who said phobias are rational?

So the upcoming 14-hour flight to NZ has me concerned. That’s a lot of time to be thinking about crashing, and if we did crash, it would be over water at nighttime. So we’d crash, and we’d be in the ocean, freezing, and it’d be dark. Yes, we’d be dead, but back to that rational thing…

The dreams started two nights ago. They always appear at some point before I fly. Two nights ago the dream was about a plane crash, but we weren’t in the plane. We just watched it crash. Not reassuring.

They aren’t always bad, though. Last night the dream involved us being in the plane, and the plane was never more than a couple of hundred feet in the air. When I asked the pilot why we were flying so low, he said being close to the meadow helped us go faster.

The plane also had what seemed like an unfinished basement, and we could go down there and play hockey and basketball. This was good for Elliot. A friend of mine who loves holding babies was also on the plane, and she held Amy almost the whole time. A very bizarre dream, but not scary.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever dreamt about us actually crashing. I think there’s something (thankfully) in my psyche that prevents me from dreaming that dream. Although, now that I’ve said that, I’ve probably jinxed myself.

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