Crashing a plane

A few days ago, I had my first ever lucid dream. I have mostly come to terms with the fact that I might die horribly some day, whether in a plane crash or elsewhere, and flying no longer bothers me... mostly. The recent Air France disaster flying out of Brazil must have been on my mind this night, because I dreamt I was in a plane and the pilot kept swerving leftwards and rightwards in turbulence, seemingly slowing down but never quite succumbing to the fate of AF 447. So I woke up.

Then I thought: "I want to do this." I was barely awake so fell asleep quite quickly, and to my surprise I resumed in my aisle seat (??D) near the back of the plane. We jerked to the right right once more, and I decided "Screw this, we're going down." And down we went. Engines stalled. Several seconds of plunging followed, dark and quite unpleasant, before I awoke in a bit of a sweat, cursing my curiosity.

That dream occupies my thoughts as I watch the Red Sox at Tampa Bay, currently 1-0 in the second. I might look into the method of lucid dreaming and try to put it to more pleasant use.

One disadvantage of being in Britain is that most games start at midnight or later [related note: yay no more West Coast trips for the Red Sox this year!], so even if I am up I only get to catch the early innings on my way to bed. I shall be glad to return to the US on Thursday and avoid having such tired, miserable thoughts as the above get in the way of enjoying the games. Assuming the plane makes it!