2004-07-06 - 1:54 p.m.HONEY-ROASTED PEANUTS?
I had an interesting dream last night. I’m not a dream analyst or anything, so I'm not really sure what this means:
In the dream, John had built a prop plane a long time ago that had been in storage in this bomb shelter for years and years. For some reason, we had to fly somewhere in it. It was poorly made with rusted rivets and creases in the metal. I could see sky through the seams. The seats were all worn, and it smelled like an old Volkswagen beetle inside. You know that smell. Dust and cobwebs were all over the antiquated control panel. Behind the seats he had built these shelves the entire height of the cabin, and sitting on them were scores of glass jars and bottles. Not fastened in or anything – just sitting there. Outside a major storm was rolling in. The sky turned completely black, lightning flashed every few seconds, and then the bottom dropped out. It was pouring like mad. Apparently I looked doubtful and worried because John got really pissed at me and said I never have any faith in him. So we started taxiing down the runway without being able to see two feet in front of the plane’s nose. Several inches of water covered the asphalt, but we kept on going. I clutched my kids to my chest and said something like, “Do they usually let planes take off in this kind of weather?” Then we started hydroplaning and the jars and bottles started rattling, so I stood up and desperately tried to keep all the glass from crashing down on my head and the heads of our children. That's when I woke up.
The images are so obscure, though. What could it all mean?
care to comment?