Usually, a few weeks before a big vacation that involves an airport, I start having nightmares about flying. I can calm myself enough to get on a plane sober (or Gravol-ed out) but I can’t seem to shut off my sub-conscious fears, and they burble up from my inner id pit.
We’re 17 days away from vacation, less than three weeks. As of yet, nothing, thankfully. But last night was pretty close:
I’m walking through the halls of the Battlestar called Galactia and it’s festooned with images from the movie The Watchmen. I’m getting more upset because I know I’ve missed half the Battlestar series and the new, updated “Trekkie Toddlers”, Star Trek (joke supplied by CB). What this had to do with Dr Manhattan, I have no clue.
Suddenly the ship lurches and I know we’re going down. Now, I know that “down” is pretty relative to a near by astral body, would probably take a long time to actually happen depending on the angle of re-entry and the Battlestar is a massive ship, but in my dream, instantly the ship was replaced with an aluminum skinned death tube. Hey… it’s a dream.
I woke before anything else can happen. I’m hoping that the lateness in my nightmares will not be concentrated as we get closer to our departure.