Dream of: 01 April 1995 "Up In Smoke"

I was traveling with several other fellows, who, like myself, seemed in their early 20s. We had stopped at a small store along the way and had walked in to look around. The store only had one room about five meters by five meters, and moving around was difficult because so much stuff was sitting all over the floor. I couldn't distinguish most things well, but I thought it looked as if hundreds of hand guns were arranged in rows on the floor. I thought I might like to buy a gun for myself, especially since such a huge selection was available. I had trouble moving around the hand guns because some strange looking wire and metal sculptures were standing at different spots amidst the guns, and negotiating a path past the sculptures was difficult.

Finally my attention was drawn to a shelf on one wall which was filled full – about a meter and a half high – of small statues of cowboys (some riding horses). The statues (pilled on top of each other) were about 10 centimeters high and looked as if they were made of hardened clay. I thought I would like to see, and perhaps buy, one, but I didn't dare touch them for fear the whole batch might fall.

One fellow with whom I had entered the store was talking with a man standing at the only counter. A vast variety of knives was arranged on the wall behind the man. My companion had pointed to one large pocket knife and had said he would pay up to $10 for it. I thought to myself that $10 surely wouldn't buy the knife. The owner of the store was obviously a collector, and the knives were no doubt quite valuable.

Clearly the owner collected quite a few different types of things. On a wall right beside me I saw a large variety of hatchet heads. Some even looked as if they might have been made by Indians. Various tops of small torches were arranged on another section of the wall. That collection was particularly interesting because I had never seen anything like it.

When we were ready to leave, the other fellows began discussing the trip, and although the details were unclear, I realized they were going transport some marijuana from this point forward. I wasn't certain how much marijuana was involved, but I vaguely thought the pot was going to be carried in a brown paper sack. This project seemed rather risky and disturbing to me. I was uncertain whether the owner of the store could hear their plans, and I was uncertain whether he was even involved. At any rate, I now felt uncomfortable about continuing on.


I was standing outside the store. One other fellow and I had decided not to continue on the trip. Three of the others had gone on without us. They had left in a small, old-fashioned, two-winged airplane which was painted bright red. I could hear the sound of the plane's engine in the sky, but I couldn't see it. Suddenly I could clearly see the plane high above us just before it went into a bank of billowy white clouds.

Just when I thought that was the end of it, I saw the plane reappear back out of the clouds. I realized the pilot (who I knew was quite a show-off) was saying good-bye to us, and in his own way was chiding us for not having continued on with the others. I thought he might even buzz so low over us that we would have to duck down.

Instead of buzzing us, the plane began doing a series of spectacular loops. I was amazed as the plane flew around in several circles and I wondered what the other two passengers must think as they flew upside down in the air. The pilot seemed in control, but since I still didn't have full confidence in him, I thought to myself, "I would be scared to death to be in that plane."

On the last loop, I noticed the plane seemed to stall just as it was pulling into a vertical position with its nose straight up in the air. It seemed to stop in mid air and hang there. It began falling toward the ground, still in the same position, seemingly unable to pull itself out. I was uncertain whether the maneuver was all part of the show, or whether there was actually a problem. The speed of the plane's descent picked up and finally it became clear that the pilot had lost control, but just when the plane was only about 100 meters from the ground, it slowed down and stopped in mid-air.

At that point, the plane was only a short ways from me. I could clearly see the details of the plane as it simply hovered in mid-air, its nose still pointed straight up into the sky. I was amazed by what I was witnessing. The plane was clearly in serious trouble, and I didn't know whether it was going to be able to pull out. Suddenly, without warning, the plane flipped over on its back and fell straight down to a hard concrete lot, landing upside down in a tremendous crash with pieces flying off everywhere. I knew no one could have survived that crash.

My mother was sleeping in a neighboring building and I thought of hollering to her to come out. Having heard the crash, she appeared at the door and hollered out, "Did you see it?!"

I called back, "Yes," and I ran in the direction of the crash. I could see no fire, but a white smoke, perhaps dust hung over the wreckage. What would I find there? Would there be pieces of any of the cowboy and horse statues which one of the fellows might have bought in the store and taken on the plane? Would there be marijuana scattered about? If so, I hoped it wouldn't be connected in any way to me. I cautiously continued toward the wreckage.

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