This morning I had yet another dream combining the theme of traveling with siddhis.
I am leaving some kind of high school reunion and am hugging my drama teacher goodbye. I rush to my hotel room to pack, but I have to remember where I’m going. Ah, I’m going to meet my husband Kurt in Barcelona. I have to fly, which I used to be unable to do because of phobia. I’m trying to remember the rules about what I can and cannot pack for an international flight. I end up with three bags, which prove hard to keep up.
Instead of driving to the airport, I drive to UNC Hospitals. It seems that I’m taking this special jet, not a commercial airliner, and two women nurses come out from a nursing station and change into pilot uniforms. I’m a bit nervous and ask them if they are sure they have the credentials to fly. They are relaxed and cheerful, and say yes. So we board this jet. I’m sitting in the back of the small jet. The two women are in the cockpit. And there is a middle-aged man sitting in profile at a desk between us. He is staring intently into a computer screen and typing.
The man makes me nervous. I get up and go to the cockpit and ask the women pilots what this man is doing on board. They say he is a doctor who is getting a ride to Europe with us and that he is fine. I say that I don’t trust him. I’m trapped now, though, as the plane takes off.
Oddly, the plane flies very low and along the highway. In fact, it flies so low that it dips under traffic lights. I look out the window at the sky above us and see these strange aircraft up there. They look like gigantic steel blimps shaped like hand grenades. They seem like alien ships from another world. I now realize that my pilots are flying low in order not to run into one of these strange aircraft.
After a while, though, our plane starts climbing steeply. The man in front of me is entering some code into his computer. I’m uneasy about him. I somehow know that he wants to steal this grocery bag of goodies I brought aboard to take to Kurt.
The man quits typing and hits Enter, and suddenly the airplane starts a vertical nosedive toward the earth. I realize that I’m going to die.
Everything goes black.
Now I’m waking up to UNC Hospital surroundings, but I’m not in a hospital bed. The two women pilots are back in their nursing uniforms. I’m incredulous at still being alive. I run up to them and start frantically yelling at them to tell me where that man ran to, that he stole my goods that I need for Barcelona. I rush around, but he has escaped with my belongings. I ask the nurse why we didn’t die from the plane crash. The blonde one asks, “Do you actually remember the plane’s crashing?” I say no, but that it was obviously about to crash and that was the last thing I remember. She says, “You blacked out.” I say, “Okay, but that doesn’t explain how I survived the crash unscathed.” She says, “Well, yes, it does.” I’m trying hard to remember something. I ask her, “Am I dreaming?” Like a creepy Stepford wife, she simply repeats, “You blacked out, so you are fine.”
One of the things in the bag that the doctor stole from me was an old clunky phone which I need to call Kurt, who is waiting in Barcelona for me. I wait till the nurses aren’t looking and call him from the nurses’ station. I scream into the phone that these people I’m with cannot be trusted, to help me get to Barcelona. He says he will.
This is another traveling dream. I suffered longstanding phobia before stream entry, phobias concerning traveling by car on the interstate highways and by airplane. This dream combined highway travel with aircraft and a nosedive, so it was pushing my most intense fear buttons. The dream was filled with mysterious people who changed costumes. The doctor was silent and was sabotaging our safe travel. The beginning scene was one about leaving behind my schooling, another constant from yesterday’s dream. Moreover, it was the drama teacher I hugged last, and the dream before the last one was about role-playing and costumes.
The blackout was kind of like a “fruition.” I escaped suffering by leaving consciousness. It also reminds me of a conversation I had with Kurt last night in which he told me he has had only a couple of lucid dreams but can always wake himself up from any nightmare. Yes, that is the root of this dream! He was telling me last night over dinner that during a scary dream he simply says, “Okay, I’ve had enough of this,” and awakens. In my dream, I seemed to have practiced this by “awakening” back in the place of departure.
Unfortunately, that asshole doctor still made off with my things. They are irrecoverable.