For the first time in a while, I was woken by the sound of heavy rain falling outside.
As I blinked-hard and squinted, I almost thought I was back in Central America. Not to say that I was really ever mistaken, but probably more hopeful. This rain still cannot rival that of Costa Rica, where I was sure that was the closest to some sort of natural flooding disaster I will ever be. And in El Salvador when I always hoped class would be cancelled so I wasn’t forced to walk a mile down hill in the rain (and then back up it past the best smelling panaderia in the neighborhood).
The nostalgia inspired me. And for the first time in a while I picked up my journal and pen and wrote. And for the first time in a while I remembered my dream. It wasn’t as pleasant as waking up to rainfall was.
In short, it went something like this:
I was sick of my life in the US and decided to take all my money (not a lot) and get on a plane to China. I told my mother this and oddly enough, she agreed. I packed up and we hopped in the car for the airport. I check bags, make sure I have everything, start getting nervous, questioning my motives, etc. The airport is wildly confusing in a Harry Potter switching staircases way (note: I’m pretty sure this airport is a recurring dream location). But I find the gate, step in the moving hallway that takes you from the terminal to the plane (I forget what this thing is called), and then all the panic hits. I change my mind, look back, look sideways, look anywhere but forward because that is no longer the direction I want to move. I call my mom.
“Mom, I don’t want to go to China.”
Peace for a second. I tell the Flight Attendant I have changed my mind.
That was a dramatic move, Rebecca. Now I can stay here and run my marathon on Sunday (actually happening). Phew.
Wait. Wait. Why is this hallway moving forward? How did I get ON the plane? I just told you I’m not going.
Panic for a few more seconds. Then, out of nowhere I am off the plane, on the runway. Being picked up by some firefighters in a very rickety looking truck with extra “lookout features” piled on top like some sort of whimsically gravity defying Dr. Seuss building.
And then I go on to fight zombies with them/help them ID who has been infected with the zombie virus. No, I’m not kidding. No I don’t play zombie games. No I didn’t fall asleep watching I Am Legend/Invasion/Warm Bodies/Walking Dead/Insert Name of Zombie movie or show here.
Mid-zombie fighting, I am woken by the rain.
Dreams can go anywhere.