Dreams

One of my co-workers told another co-worker that she had dreamed about him last night.  She said, “something bad happened to you.  You need to be careful,” in all seriousness.  My co-workers reaction was this: “it was the most uncomfortable conversation I’ve ever had with someone.  She is c-r-a-z-y.”  Despite the fact that the whole thing crosses questionable office etiquette lines and leads me to wonder about the gullibility levels of certain of my co-workers, I too had an unusual dream last night.  I feel an irrefutable need to share.

The dream started off with everyone I knew on a plane.  I do mean everyone – it was a big plane.  For coherency’s sake we’ll say it was one of those big tank-carrying planes, the c-5 galaxy.  Anyway, either there was already a bomb on the plane (Speed 3), or someone evil was trying to crash the plane or use it for nefarious purposes, so we built a bomb to blow it up first.  After we all jumped out with parachutes and life rafts.  Of course, the bomb accidentally went off early and everybody died, except for me and my dad, who happened to be near me and the door.  We grabbed a raft and hit the air.

There’s a moral to a story here.  Dreams about death are probably not to be shared.

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