Dream Interpretation 101

So it’s less than a month now before I head out to New Jersey to meet all the cool chicks I’ve come to know on the Internet the last few years. And yes, I am counting the days. And hoping they’re not the last I have on this earth.

I know I’ve been saying for weeks that I hate flying, but I may have understated it. I am terrified to set foot on a plane. So what happens the day after I book my ticket? Big air terror bust in Great Britain. But they prevented that, you say. Yeah. And then came the Kentucky thing. What? 50 people dead? Because an air traffic controller hadn’t had enough sleep and a runway light was burned out?

So yes. I am absolutely scared to death to fly. So it was no surprise that the dreams started last night. The same night I realized it was less than a month to F-Day. (Flying or frying… my pilot will decide.)

In this dream, I had decided to take a flight to Minneapolis just to take a test run. Figure things out before I left for NJ. Now I’ve flown into the Cities before, but in this dream I felt the need to do it again. Whatever. So I get to our local airport and the lady who works at the post office at work was working the ticket counter. Don’t ask me why. That one is up to you armature dream interpreters out there.

Anyway, I buy my ticket and take my seat on the plane– no security, by the way– almost missed my plane because I had to go to the bathroom. But I made the plane, and found out my seat was at the back of the plane (which looked something like a bus with wings) and was a couch. Leather. No seat belts. As I am trying to figure this out, the plane starts to taxi. Down the street. In traffic. Can’t get enough speed up to take off since we keep hitting red lights, and I realize we are going to drive all the way to Minneapolis before we can take off.

That’s when my alarm went off, and I woke with this “What the fu…” feeling. Way to start the day.

So all you out there who like to probe into the psyche, what’s my deal? Why am I dreaming about taxiing in traffic? On a leather couch. In a bus. Go ahead, guess away. Have fun. In the mean time, I think I’m going to be calling the doc asking for a few dozen prescriptions for anti-anxiety medication.

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