Bad Dreams

Kind readers, allow me a sober purge of last night’s terrible dream.

I’m very near the conclusion that I’m destined to be at the scene of a terrible airliner accident. Last night I dreamt again that I witnessed a crash. I’ve had these dreams for years. Sometimes they recur for weeks and sometimes years will go by without one, but each time they are the most vivid dreams I ever have. This was the first in at least a year, but maybe one of the most real.

I was the passenger in a car moving in slow traffic toward an unidentified international airport. The roads were clean and white and the cars were small giving the impression that I was in Europe or South America. The driver and I had been watching passenger jets pass directly overhead as they made their landing approaches in the same direction we were moving. Then one came over at an unusual speed. Just as it came into view through the front windshield its nose began to lift and its tail sagged unnaturally. The full stall occurred about 3 or 4 city blocks ahead of us. The fall was swift and sure and began at what I figure to be around a thousand feet. The nose was still inclined as it began its fall and it twisted to its right during the fall such that the rear and right wing hit first. The impact looked to be into 3 to 4 story apartment and office buildings. The sound of the crash itself was wrenching and unlike movie sound effects; more of a deep thudding and scrapping than a banging, wrenching explosion. The ground shuddered just before the sound arrived. There was no explosion, but white and grey smoke did begin to billow moments after.

As it became obvious that the plane would stall, I thought in a dark stun, “No way… this is it… just like my dreams. It’s actually happening now.” With those thoughts and gaze fixed on the falling plane, I numbly opened the door and stepped out onto the road and up on to the sidewalk. That’s where I was at impact. Moments later people began screaming and I starting realizing how paralyzed with fear I was. I knew I should approach the scene and help out in some way, but I did not want to see the carnage and the thought of the carnage kept me glued to my spot on the sidewalk as humanity blurred around me.

When my urge to help dominated I would shuffle or even jog forward, but often the fear would draw me back to a stop. I made it as far as a block before the dream ended. I wanted so much to help and I was deeply angry at myself for being so afraid. I tried to hide or justify my fear and slow approach by offering the question, “What should we do?” to passersby.

This wasn’t the first of these dreams dominated by fear, but there have also been those where I bravely rush to the scene barely aware of any fear. Always though there is intolerable dread. Lord, keep these things in my dreams.