Last night I dreamed that I was preparing for a flight. I don’t know where I was going – maybe to the Swiss Alps. Or San Fran. I know it was an S word. In my dream I started to get anxious for the flight. In the dream I had a lucid moment where I said to myself, “people fly every day, nothing bad is going to happen to you.” In my dream I agreed with myself and got on the plane. We took off and as we accelerated towards the sky the plane was engulfed in fog. My dream self remembered JFK, Jr crashing and dying because of his inexperience as a pilot, which led him to become disoriented while flying through clouds (Spatial Disorientation). I said to myself in my dream, “I hope the pilot has enough flying experience.”
Then I felt the force of the plane banking violently. We careened through the fog and it filled the cabin. I could feel the chill of it as it moistened my skin. I looked out the window and saw nothing but twisting and morphing puffs of cloud and wet air. The fog parted quickly like beer foam disintegrating under a face-greased finger and revealed that we were hovering about 10 feet above the water. It was rolling and violent, a dark blueish black. The pilot got on the speaker thing and apologized for not knowing what was happening. He said that rather than land hard in the water, he was going to “put ‘er down easy.” The whole cabin erupted in protest. But no one was freaking out. The pilot said that to make everyone happy he would hover as long as possible, and try to glide to the nearest airport at this level until fuel ran out. The plane started moving – flying across the water only 10 feet above it.
My dream self was almost smug. I felt like I was giving myself an “I told you something bad would happen” smirk. Then I yanked myself HARD out of my dream and woke up drenched, my mouth dry, my right calf in full charley horse.