The Plane Crash

I am taking care of a baby. It is tiny, maybe 3/4 weeks old. I am feeding it in a hotel room. There is a friend with me, but I can’t make her out. I feel she is someone I know, but not sure exactly who. We are laughing and enjoying how beautiful the baby is as we gaze out of the window at the scenery.

The scenery from the window is stunning mountain ranges and perfectly blue skies. The room is comfortable and the bedding is all crumpled up on the bed. There is a sense that we don’t care. We’re just free inside of this room, taking care of someone’s baby. It seems to be my brother’s baby, but I don’t know who the mother is.

Suddenly out of nowhere, a small, twin engine type plane is coming towards the window and we are in immediate panic, scrambling to try and figure out what to do. We grab the baby, wrap it fully inside of a blanket and hit the floor with the baby sheltered beneath us.

The plane flies into the window, shattering glass all over the our bodies and it continues on through the hotel room, crashing on the other side as the water sprinklers go off, sounds of people screaming and my friend and I trying to figure out what to do next. We do not know if the walk way has fallen through or if we are able to get out of the room. There is no smoke yet or indication of fire. We are stunned with shattered glass everywhere.

and then… I wake up, off kilter, a sense of doom, lump in my throat, no fear… just a feeling of sadness and misunderstanding

Edit: more emerged throughout the day 

A deeper feeling of doom; images of cuts on my body from the glass as it has shattered.  It is upstairs in my house, but the room is a hotel room, so the whole side of it is thick glass.  It is many floors up.   The sound of the people on the other side of the hallway as the plane crashes further in, knowing it is a small plane so the damage isn’t major, but in a direct path to its crash. Yet the damage is brutal as it continues to crash.  A sense of still needing to get out, get the baby out, awakened before there was a plan or having assessed the damage of the direct hit.  

a lot coming up here, and I am processing, writing it out, documenting it.  these are my dreams. how I feel them.  how I see them when they do come.    

The Bar

I am standing behind a bar.  I cannot see myself.  I can’t tell exactly what I’m doing, but I might be dancing or even posing for pictures.   I am swaying my hips seductively, moving and pausing occasionally   Directly in front of me, seated at the bar, is a shadow man wearing a suit and a hat.  I cannot make out his features or the color of his suit.  I cannot see his face.  He is an outline, mostly colored white, sitting quietly with his head tilted down as if he’s staring at the bar.  His presence is strong.  I do not feel frightened by him.  Only curious.

A woman slides into the seat next to the man.  It positions her directly in front of me.  She has some kind of cloth covering her head, like a hijab.  It is multi colored, and I can only see her face. She is watching me, emotionless.

I am staring at her skin.  I have never seen anything like it.  It is as if a layer of soft, young skin is almost infused over old skin, like a veil that reveals both the old and young layer.  Her eyes are staring at me, and I am fixated on her skin.  Suddenly, I realize she is someone I know.  She is a woman from my past who did not have good intent with me.  She speaks to me with her mind, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Well, I see you made good use of the ass popping I taught you.”  She says through her eyes.

I am instantly infuriated.  How dare she take credit for my moves, like I didn’t know how to pop my ass before she met me.  Hmmmpphhh

She stands up with a haughty smile spread across her face.  I want to punch her square in the nose.  Conceited bitch.