The label of fiction has a new definition for me.
“Fiction” is reserved for the things I prefer NOT to be a direct part of MY reality.
Now I believe EVERYTHING is possible in this or another (alternate) reality and/or timeline.
The label of fiction is much like a safety blanket for my own mind as I learn more about life and accept more of the funkiness the presence unbridled imagination introduces to my reality.
Some of the things labeled/compartmentalized as ‘fiction’ in this reality I have come to accept as fact. For instance, this would include the direct presence of aliens, robots, artificial intelligences, cyborgs, and a myriad of other lifeforms interacting directly with me as a human.
Other things that have been labeled as fact I am choosing to call fiction SIMPLY because the fact being told flat out no longer works for me. Take for instance ISIS or the recent claim of another shooting. Flat out doesn’t work for me. So I call it fiction.
Now my mind ‘compartmentalizes’ the fiction by assigning it labels which I respect.
The label of hallucination, is fiction in my reality but fact in an alternate reality.
The label of vision and/or dream, is still fiction in my reality but potentially more important a fact in an alternate reality to consider for my reality when considering the manner in delivery.
Daydreaming and ‘seeing things’ are yet another form of ‘piercing the veil’ of alternate realities.
And what’s called “fiction” by the consensus.I am NOT invalidating it.
I am merely branching my mind from that consensus definition, in a natural way, much like a tree would branch once the trunk has reached some form of maturity.
Last night, I had a REAL funky dream.
The dream was grainy and a brownish and white, not like a black and white..
Similar to the how the old Doctor Who was back in 1963.
In the dream, I was at a State Fair of some kind.
I am not sure where it was at.
I had two wives. And they were in church – yes, in church at the state fair.
Weird, I know. Church as a state fair.
Not so weird me having two wives. I have three ex wives. Most of the time when I dated I dated three women at a time and called it a rotation. So for me this ‘two wives’ thing kind of made more sense than the rest of the weird dream.
In any case. I was bored in church (not unusual), and left them there.
As I walked around, I saw Red Bull was taking people up for half hour flights in a smallish jet, which looked VERY similar to this:
Inside the dream, I knew it had been the first time I had seen jets like this up close.
Red Bull was charging $150 for a 30 minute ride.
So I jumped at the opportunity.
We went up, did rolls, did a loop, and amazingly I didn’t feel sick – thankfully in this dream (unlike my time in the aerobat prop job in North Carolina).
It was euphoric. Even in the dream.
But as we approached the runway, I could see the nightmarish situation presented to the pilot.
It was a short runway, the landing area was quite literally like a hole that was ‘boxed in’ from all sides making it crucial to ‘plant’ the jet with precision.
There was a paperbag at the end of the runway, and the pilot quipped coming down:
“See that paper bag. We have to nail that.”
The pilot fished with the controls.
And he miscalculated his approach, and crashed hard.
Somehow, I knew – instantly – that he’d not taken into account my weight in the jet and how much that threw off his landing approach.
He nailed the bag. Quite literally.
The plane didn’t even bounce it landed so hard, which is unusual – for hard landings it’s not unusual to ‘bounce’ if you impact hard enough.
The plane then flipped on its side, breaking the windows.
Both of us, held firmly in place by seatbelts were still looking at the ground rush by our heads as the plane slowly came to a stop.
I’d stayed conscious the whole time, so when the plane finally came to a rest, I was concerned of fire, so I unbuckled and inspected the plane all over for signs of fire or sparks.
I didn’t see any.
CLEARLY not a Hollywood production where everything blows up once it impacts, right?
I went to the front of the plane where the pilot was, who was still unconscious. I unbuckled him and removed him from the plane, pulling him from safety – still just in case anything started fire.
Fortunately nothing ever did.
He’d regained consciousness at about the same time the manager of the State Fair came up, and said ‘there will be no more of these at any fairs, anywhere.’
Here’s what he looked like:
Now in the dream I suspected there was much more to his ‘holy war’ on flight than he was willing to discuss, so we argued and argued about the ‘need’ for flight.
At about the time I came to realize this was a no-win conversation, the man ‘shifted’ in physical position away from me in the dream, and suddenly, something inside of me said “This is where reality branched for you.”
It was then, even in the dream, I knew that Muslims and Americans had perceptually gone down two very different paths, and that their culture did not adopt flight and ours did.
I draw an analogy of this dream to the game Civilization 3, where cultural and scientific achievements come in succession based on scientific progression, but you always have the option ‘not to’ study’ certain things.
And it was then I knew our conversation was done.
The man then went about ‘hiding’ the evidence of a problem having occurred at HIS state fair, much like what Disneyland’s been notorious for doing, hiding problems to avoid bad press.
In this case.I agreed with the need for the cover up for my own reasons: I didn’t want a crashed flight where the two occupants came out without problem – to make others fear flying.
I enjoyed it too much, despite my fears, even in my own dreams.
I went back to my wives in the church.
And something had changed. I knew they were now girlfriends, but not how.
It was weird. Only in a dream, right?
I suppose it’s because of what happened next:
On telling one of my girlfriends about the crash, I asked her to keep it under wraps.
Of course I was pretty ignorant, not taking into account her background – she was a journalist, and this was an incredible scoop.
So from there, she went out, and started interviewing EVERYONE asking if they had seen or heard about the plane crash.
This made me pretty pissed off.
Even in the dream, I enjoyed the hell out of flying, and inside and outside of dreams, yes it does scare me, but it’s something I respect greatly because of that and the amazing visual and visceral experience I have while doing it.
And yet what I have learned on how to do it – it’s still ‘just controlled’ enough to not feel like I am out of control with it, and I respect it to no end with the ‘progression’ it takes to actually fly bigger and faster planes. One of these days. For real.
In any case. As I watched my … you can’t call her an ex wife when n the dream that was a different reality, can you? Girlfriend? In any case – As I watched her interviewing. I saw the hopes for keeping the lids on this crash fade.
And about then I woke up.
I dream of flying red bulls.