Fantasy to Reality

Two of my dreams were somewhat intertwined, as I remember it.

There was a race of some sort. My ragtag team (of boys dressed 19th-century style) decided to buy an airplane kit to get us from one end to the other. I objected, as none of us knew how to fly a plane. I didn’t go, but the rest of them did. As I feared, they managed to take off and fly, but they didn’t figure out how to land. Some survived, including a tall boy wearing aviator goggles and a leather cap who came out of it looking dripping wet, but half did not.

A friend and I sat on the floor in a movie theater without seats, watching this news on a film reel. We saw a news conference with that boy in the background, and then a funeral procession passing by holding up photos of the dead. Then that procession continued, but now it held up photos of other dead people we didn’t recognize. Suddenly, the number of photos in the procession multiplied, and everyone in the theater rose and rushed toward the screen. No! It couldn’t be our pictures! As we all surged forward, the black curtains behind the screen retracted and the screen lifted, showing a gleaming rainbow-colored wall and shoppers in a mall — it was only a movie, after all.

My final dream of the night (well, it turned more into afternoon) concerned some sort of conspiracy or aliens. Maybe both. I mostly remember it was pretty exciting stuff, so I didn’t want to wake up and end it.