The dream engine makes me fly

by , under dream engine, life

In a plane, no less. A smallish one with room for about twenty people, though the only people I noticed in it at the time were me, the copilot (a tall dark woman in her thirties, never knew her name) and another crew member who neither I nor the copilot liked so we ditched him somewhere. He left a book in our common book bag, some kind of self-help how-to-be-successful thing.

There was no cockpit, just a flying seat on the right and another pilot’s seat on the left. I think it was my first flight, even in the dream, because I was giddy with relief and excitement when it turned out that I could actually do it. Flying was much like cycling in the “easy when you know how” way.

The flight went right through a city, and I had to make difficult bends to avoid high buildings (and perhaps also mountains and other natural scenery). Eventually I somehow flew the plane into a hotel room with a balcony and we had a rest, and possibly a meal, and helped a little boy, alone and lost in the building, find his father.

I spent some time in the city with my other half (who hadn’t been on the plane) buying small pieces of jewellery from a stall outside a shop for 5 or 10 cents each. I ended up with insects made of beads (ladybugs mostly) and a couple of enamelled religious-themed hangers. Two elderly ladies were also searching through the stuff at the stall, talking about a film I’d also seen recently, so we talked about that a bit and suddenly I realised they’d not only seen the film with me, but had in fact been on the plane when I was flying it.

Then, back at the hotel room, I asked Copilot “where were you all this time”? “Cleaning things up here,” she said, without any kind of censure. I opened the doors so we could fly the plane out, but we stopped on the balcony, leaving the plane’s wings folded next to it, so we could close the doors behind us — the double doors we’d taken the plane out through had to be closed from the inside, one person on each door. When we came back to the balcony the plane was gone. “Stolen,” the copilot said, and we tried to find it in the air but there were only balloons, most of them shaped and coloured like toy KLM planes (bright sky-blue and fat) flying upside down. Our plane was slim and dark blue, so we’d have noticed it among the balloons.


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