Freefall

Everyone has dreams where they are falling. A quick google search reveals that some believe it signifies a subconscious fear of losing control, a sign that one is about to give into some sexual urges, or that one is out of step with God's will. Perhaps there are some merits to those views. But what does it mean if the fall is out the back of an aircraft?

I was sitting down in a large metal compartment, a loud humming resounding in my ears. A red light came on accompanied by the blaring of a klaxon, and I was pushed roughly toward an opening in what I assumed to be the rear. Once at the edge, I was given another hard shove before I plummeted into the darkness. And silence. After a few moments, a heads up display lit up, and I heard the wind whistling outside my helmet. I saw the clouds below before turning up to look at the stars. My transport was nowhere in sight.
I was suddenly enveloped in fog, the stars disappearing from view. I reoriented myself downwards, droplets of water splattering against my visor until I broke free from the clouds, faced with the ground. The rapidly approaching ground. I reached over for a ripcord, but didn't find it where I thought it would be. After groping around a bit, I didn't find it anywhere. An alarm started beeping steadily in my ears. It sped up rapidly, turning into a piercing whine the closer I got to the ground. I was about a hundred feet up when I thought about how much it was going to hurt. As I hit, there was a flash of white. Then everything went black.
The next thing I realized I was running. Where, or why, I didn't know. It took a few seconds for my vision to come back, and when it did, I was in the middle of a wrecked city. It was as if downtown LA was hit by an air strike. And there I was, running through the ruins with a strange rifle in hand. I could hear the sounds of battle around me, the staccato of a distant machine gun, the echo of explosions, all muffled by the half destroyed buildings around me.
I entered a doorway to find something that felt very out of place in a scene like this. A bathroom. More specifically, the bathroom I have here at the house. Except this one had a large, retracting door next to the shower. I stepped into the tub and pressed a button to open it. And as it rolled on up, I saw another soldier shooting at a very large, minotaur-like mechanical monstrosity, like something out of DOOM.
His name came up on my HUD, but I already knew who it was, even though the black helmet he wore covered his face. Randy. He was a friend of mine back from the old neighborhood, about ten years back. I haven't heard from him since, though I recall someone mentioning he had served a tour of duty in Afghanistan before leaving the Marines to attend UCLA.
And he was about to be crushed by a giant metal minotaur.
I felt my blood boil at that, my rage suddenly switching me into autopilot. I hit a switch on my rifle, dropping the barrel and replacing it with a different one hanging off the pack on my back. I then extended the stock, switched out the cartridge, and worked the bolt back to feed a new round into the chamber. Then I took aim, and opened fire. I didn't think I'd do much damage, and I didn't, my rounds pinging harmlessly against it's armor. But I distracted it enough for Randy to get running in the opposite direction. And then it came after me.
I froze for a second before my legs got the message to start moving and I vaulted out of the tub as it's hoof came crashing down in the spot I had just left. Bursting through the door, I ran, and kept running as I heard it pounding after me. A loud puff of gas sounded behind me, and an explosion rained a ton of rubble down upon my head. A large chunk of concrete slit a crack in the middle of my visor, and I was buried in the debris. In between the sparks and jagged lines of liquid crystal in my HUD, I saw my arm reach out, pushing some of the rubble out of the way. My left arm wasn't responding at all, but once I was sitting upright, the alarm went off next to my pillow, and I was greeted with the shadows of my room, and the first rays of the sun coming through my window.

Randy. Of all people, why him? He was like a big brother to me, to all the kids in the neighborhood. I haven't thought about him in years, and he suddenly appears in a dream, and in mortal danger no less. I wonder what that's all about.

Following my Dream Girl

I've been meaning to do one of these for awhile, but I haven't had much time over the holiday season. Even so, now that I'm actually getting down to it I find myself ill-equipped. I had a friend, a long time ago, that was good at interpreting dreams and such. But it's been years since I've heard from Tex, and I doubt she's going to be popping up again any time soon. I've tried my hand at it a time or two, but I'm nowhere near as good as she is, and it's difficult to be objective about ones own dreams. So, I guess this is it. I'll just put it down here and hope maybe the act of typing it out makes it clearer.

In the past, there was a recurring dream that's haunted me every now and again. I walk through a foggy landscape made up of an amalgamation of places I've been, mainly schools and old neighborhoods. Leading me through this landscape is a girl about twenty years old, give or take. She's not always dressed the same, sometimes in a dress, other times in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, but like the landscape, she's monochromatic. The dreams are often either black and white, or nearly so. And my guide is always silent, never speaking or making any kind of sound other than her footsteps. What's more, she wears the face of an old flame of mine. An old unrequited love that eventually evolved into a rather close friendship. Symbolic of old regrets, perhaps?

As crazy as it may have sounded, I was hoping to ask her myself. The last time I had that dream, I thought about maybe trying to work it into a lucid dream and trying to get her to talk. Though since I've came up with this plan, the dreams have, thus far, stopped. Perhaps the question was the answer afterall.

Last night, however, I had a dream that, while different, reminded me of my "gray maiden" nonetheless. It started out with me on the street by my work, the area shadowed by dark clouds overhead. It felt like I was just coming off a rough shift. I could feel my shoulders and back ache as I walked past the art gallery across the street from the theater. There were the usual paintings and sculpture work in the windows. And as I was coming up to the glass doors, there was a strange sensation. When you're in the same room with someone, input from your senses form a complete "sense" of that person, an impression of their presence that remains even when you look away from them. That impression was what compelled me to step inside.
Perhaps my dream shifted locales when I entered. The interior was different then I remembered. It looked more like a library than a gallery. Folding tables were lined up by the entrance, with a variety of people sitting at them, seemingly chatting and/or studying. Beyond that, there were bookshelves as in a library taking up the whole of the rear part of the room. To the right of that was an elevator framed by the doors to restrooms, and an exit beyond that.
When I looked over the tables again, there was a girl that stood out to me. The presence I felt from outside. From the door, I saw that she had short brown hair, and was wearing a long sleeved, white thermal shirt and faded jeans. She was reading intently from an open book that lay on the table in front of her, a pencil in one hand with a notebook at her elbow.
My legs carried me over to her of their own accord. As I approached she looked up and gave me a warm smile. She felt like an old friend. But while there was familiarity in her brown eyes, it was a face I had never seen before. She had a common prettiness, but the way she held her head gave her an air of nobility I found appealing.
She offered, and I took her hand as she greeted me, and gave her a light kiss on her knuckles, as is my custom with close friends. We chatted for some minutes, yet the subject of our discussion escapes my memory. I do recall her chiding me about my mumbling, a habit I sometimes lapse into involuntarily. Particularly when embarrassed or uncomfortable. She excused herself to the restroom, but came back out as soon as she had entered. I found that strange, but I didn't complain when she retook her seat next to me.
Our eyes locked. There was something hypnotic about her gaze, and I couldn't look away. My thoughts and feelings suddenly felt very distant as I reached over, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. I cupped her cheek gently in my hand before leaning in, our lips pressing together briefly before I came back to my senses and broke contact.
I felt absolutely mortified, certain I had made a complete fool of myself. I had expected a reproach, but instead she simply looked into my eyes with a serenity that was very unexpected. She then closed her eyes, her lips parting slightly as she leaned towards me. I met her halfway, feeling her warmth once more.
A minute or so later, we took a breath and collected ourselves. I'm sure I had a stupid look on my face. She looked infinitely more composed, the faintest of smiles curving her lips. She closed the book she had on the table and grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from the back of her chair. I followed her out the door to a different scene than when I had entered. The theater was still across the street, but the skyline further along was altered, reminiscent of the high rise buildings of Hollywood boulevard before the recent construction.
The sun was setting along the horizon, bands of orange and scarlet stretching along the sky while dark gray clouds hovered above us, patches of blue peeking between them. I commented on the rain, and that I had neglected to bring my hat. She replied likewise, zipping up her sweater and raising the hood. As the rain started to fall, she turned to face me. And I opened my eyes to the sun shining through my bedroom window.
With the empty feeling that followed, I think I may have preferred a nightmare.