Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Fragments I can remember from dreams about plane crashes.

1. The airport is crowded. Soundless. It is fluorescent white. People’s heads bobbed and arc-ed languidly in time with the others during the course of their individual walking destinations.

Smiles in anticipation. Commercial Jet. Speedy take-off. Wheels squeal at initial motion.

Steep ascent; sharp bank, tearing metal. Screaming, incoherence, plummeting, falling objects, gripping my arm rests. Fire before impact, then impact.

2. Clear, cloudless, sunny, cold day. Flying comfortably. Mountain range. Catastrophic Mechanical Failure.

Window seat. Oddly calm. Mountains become larger and closer. Different angles. The snow was important.

3. From the ground, observing. The plane is too heavy; it is obvious. Struggling on take off, slow to ascend, then failure. The plane belly flops on to another plane of equal size.

Massive fire ball. Gasping from a distance. Then running; all of us. No cries upon arrival; just burning. I knew someone on the plane who was now lost.

4. Unsafe plane. Foreign land. Close to landing. Wobbling. Chants and whispers in an unknown language. Will this suspense end? After the crash, I realize I am unharmed.

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