I'm somewhere in Arizona
, and I have a mission
. I don't remember exactly what the mission is -I don't think I even fully knew when I committed to it- but it involves launching an extremely powerful model rocket
, one that seems like it can actually reach orbit
. It's the night before, but I can't sleep on the 2-cushion couch
provided for me. There is a network
of spider web
s on the side of the couch, underneath a ceiling/wall window displaying the brilliant night sky. One of these spider
s is about the size of my hand, and yellow and black and smooth
, but I'm not worried because it soon curls into a ball.
I find myself in a large department store of some kind. I'm looking for the young woman I have to meet up with as part of the mission, and I'm carrying two plastic bags, the one in my right hand containing the rocket, other essentials in the left hand. I eventually find her, with a third person who will somehow be important. "Are we gonna do it," I ask. She's annoyed with me. "Yeah, let's get out of here." "But I thought this was the place." Apparently something went wrong. The three of us hightail it out of there. On the way her mysterious companion tells me, "it's her last birthday you know." The young woman looks up at me with a slight grin, I can't decide whether it is sarcastic or genuine. (The woman is short, with dark brown slightly curly hair and bright alive brown eyes. Her companion is of indeterminate age, tall and thin with very curly black hair, a cruel glint in his dark eyes and at the corner of his lips.)
Somewhere in the commotion I've lost my bags. I get angry about this and berate the others over my misfortune. Our plans have changed and the rocket is no longer necessary, but I still feel lost and out of my element. We board a plane. It is a commercial jet, with its one passenger compartment about half full. I am sitting with the young woman, and although I cannot see the cockpit, it seems certain to me that her companion is piloting the plane. I can also somehow communicate with him.
Soon, although we take off smoothly, we start flying dangerously low. The plane has now morphed into a rickety old biplane, transporting only the three of us, and I can actually feel the water lapping against its belly. The young woman is screaming next to me, pointing to waves as they loom out to meet us, breaking out of the seemingly solid patterns they appeared to have from a higher altitude. I'm pretty agitated too, I feel certain that our pilot is doing this intentionally. I tell him as much and he says, "Relax, this is just exactly how it needs to be."
The next thing I know I am swimming underwater, with a strong current in a direction that I hope is shoreward. I reach the surface, and after what seems like a long time, I look around me. Our pilot seems to be running on the water. Not actually running on top of the water, but every time he reaches the crest of a wave, he kicks powerfully and flies out ahead of it, his legs flailing out at empty air. Very quickly he becomes a blurred figure far away, and at this point I can see the beach, a thin strip of bright golden sand extending as far as I can see to my right and left and hemmed in by a lush jade forest. The pilot is very near to it, but I still have a ways to go. I try to imitate his run-jump-surf style, but cannot. I notice that he has cleared the final wave and landed perfectly on his feet on the shore, giving a final jubilant leap when he does. By the time I reach safety, neither he nor the woman can be found. But I hear his voice again, saying "it's her last birthday, you know," and I feel certain that she is safe and happy and he is responsible for this. I feel peaceful and not at all weary from my ordeal, and I wake.