I dreamed about flying last night.  Actually, I dreamed about falling.  

I was in an airplane with two other people, but I can only now remember that one of them was my sister, Reagan.  We were talking casually, when I looked out the window and saw another aircraft of some sort coming from somewhere above and behind us, descending rapidly toward the ground.  We were not so high up that I couldn't see the ground, and as this other plane passed near us, I said something like: "I don't think that looks right.  Something's wrong with that plane."  

We pressed up to the window and watched, somewhat horrified, as it sped downward and crashed into the earth.  

There was a quiet second of shock before it dawned on me that we weren't going to fare well either.

As we were somewhat low still, I somehow knew that the explosion of the other plane would send debris flying upward and into us.  I recall accepting this fact silently and with determined calm.  As I looked out the plane window, I saw a very long and pointed piece of metal fly from the wreckage and spin toward the back of the plane.  My seat was not far from the back, and I closed my eyes and waited.  

Sure enough, the plane was struck.  But I didn't feel the impact or pain I expected.  What I felt was the plane, my seat, and fellow passengers entirely remove from me so that I was immediately free-falling... to my death, of course.  (For the record, I have never thought that was a good feeling--not even on a roller-coaster.)  I didn't even try to interact with my sister during the whole ordeal, because I felt I had to remain composed and calm and could only do that if I kept my eyes closed and pretended I was on a ride--which, as I've said, I do not enjoy, but I suppose it was preferable to the reality.

Fortunately, I didn't feel myself hit the ground because my little guy Zachary climbed in bed with me at that moment.  I consider this a lucky thing, because "they" say--and this is backed up by oldest son--that if you die in a dream, you die in real life.  (How could anyone know this, we ask?)

I can guess some of the contributing factors to a dream like this.  I was just last night preparing for a talk I'm giving on Saturday morning and traveling back in time to Mrs. Fenton's speech class in high school--where I for the first time discovered that I could control, to some extent, my great and debilitating stage fright. That I was capable of facing fear without letting it control me.  

As for the rest of it, you psychology majors out there can tell me what it means.  :)