Dream of: 03 September 1981 "Plane Crash"

I was flying over water on a jet headed, I believed, from Quebec to Puerto Rico. I had been talking with someone about how it would be necessary to make a connection in New York and that the New York connection caused difficulties for business men and doctors who didn't want to connect in New York. So they were petitioning to have the schedule changed so future flights would go directly to Puerto Rico, but that change hadn't yet been made.

The plane began experiencing some engine trouble, and it became apparent we were going to have to make a crash landing. I was in the cockpit talking with the pilot and I asked him how fast we would be going when we made the crash landing. He said he didn't know. I asked him if we would be able to slow down to 100 miles per hour"

He replied we would actually probably be able to slow down to 60 miles per hour.

I thought about that and I replied that we would therefore probably survive.

I asked him if it would be possible for us to come down with the rear of the plane making contact first rather than the nose, so we wouldn't flip flop.

I returned to the passenger part of the plane; I decided to make a list of the people on the plane. The first name I wrote was my own.  Next I wrote my sister's name. Then I wrote my father's and my mother's names. I then looked up and saw my brother Chris sitting there with a smile on his face. He said, "Don't forget me."

So I wrote his name on the list. My second cousin Don's family was also on board. Since there were four of them, I decided to simplify the list and instead of writing each of their names, I simply wrote their last name with a "4" in front of it.


I found myself in an airport preparing to board a plane. I had packed everything except a large cumbersome bunch of pictures which I had cut out to make a collage. My flute was in its case.

Someone who appeared to be Ringo Starr was with me. Apparently I was in a rock-and-roll group and the other two members of the group were already on the plane. Ringo and I were preparing to board but we were late. We knew we were late and that we would probably not make it to the plane on time. We were standing at the ticket booth. We already had our tickets. The person behind the counter said, "No, you're too late."

I began screaming we had to board that plane; I pounded on the counter with my fist.

Ringo told the man behind the counter that he knew some high officials and that if they didn't tell us the number of the gate where our plane was, they might lose their jobs. We told them to simply tell us the number of the gate and that if we didn't make it, then it wouldn't be their fault.

The man behind the counter told us the number, but I wasn't quite sure whether he had said fifty-three, fifty-five or fifty-six. He said we should just go through the door in front of us.

So we took off through the door. I was having some difficulty carrying all the pictures and my flute. Ringo was also loaded down with pictures. After going through the door, we found a gate, but it wasn't ours. The man there directed us downstairs. So we went down a couple flights of stairs and came to another gate. The man there directed us to the next gate and from there we were directed to the next gate, which was our gate. We asked if this was the flight to Pennsylvania; someone said it was. We knew then that that was our flight.

The plane was almost ready to take off. The movable hall which led to the plane was still in position, but we saw a man in a tractor below was preparing to remove it. I jumped in the hall and began running toward the door shouting, "Wait, wait, wait."

Somehow I knew we were going to make it. Ringo was ahead of me. I had a feeling maybe he would make it and I wouldn't. I had a kind of vision of the plane taking off without me and crashing on take off, but instead I made it to the door.

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