Very jumbled dream while napping this afternoon. I was returning home from a class trip to parts unknown. Compounding the frustration of enduring a long nonsmoking flight, I was forced to sit next to two teenage girls and their four year old boy. They were avidly sizing me up as a potential father the entire flight while he kept throwing action figures around and amused himself by kicking the seat in front of him.

The victim of the brat's kicking finally turned around in anger and asked "Whose is he?" The victim was Dawson off of Dawson's Creek. I had a moment of doubt...did even he deserve such annoyance? He asked who the evil child belonged to, and the girls pointed at me and said, "Melanie here." Dawson subjected me to several minutes of angst-ridden monologue and bad facial expressions before turning back around.

I realized the folder in front of me contained objects besides the usual barf bag and airline disaster cartoons: a bloody steak knife, a plastic bag full of McDonalds toys and my checkbook. I thought about just ignoring the strange collection, but knew I couldn't. A Japanese man dressed like a nurse saw me examining the knife and ran off to tell someone about the deadly flatwear, and I decided to make a hasty disposal. I asked the first woman who looked like a flight attendant where the restrooms were. The matronly woman (who was wearing a name badge) laughed and said, "I'm not part of the crew, child, but bless you for thinking I could be!" Yeah, ok.

The dream shifted, and the plane had landed. Everyone disembarked, and in the terminal I realized I had left the incriminating evidence in the seat folder. I ran back to the plane, but the doors were closed and new passengers were in their seats awaiting takeoff. Suddenly, I realized how badly I needed to get the knife and toys. If the next person sitting in that seat thought about money or finances, the vicious cycle would begin again! They would be compelled to place a token symbol of their money with the knife and toys and kill innocents. (In my case, I guess the teens and brat didn't count)

The plane took off, and with a shrug I made haste to get to the class van. The street outside the airport was crowded, confusing, and larger than expected. People were sunbathing and dancing, and again someone lifted aside the strap on my tank top to say "You're too pale. We should call you Melanie." Again with the cross-gender names. I searched, but there was no trace of my class van. I had that awful feeling of being left, knew that there was no one to offer help, and realized that was how all the sunbathers and dancers had come to exist outside the airport. Someone handed me my rollerblades as I started back towards the throng of lost souls, and said "Race you to the terminal."