I had a dream last night that my family went to Mexico:
Cancun.
Our connecting flight was in Sweden, or Finland, or somewhere Scandinavian. Don’t ask why. Everything was in a language I couldn’t read. While weaving through the airport to find our connecting gate, I decided to go off on my own.
I thought I could do it. I sat down near the gate, all alone. I thought I’d beat my family to the gate. I thought I had plenty of time.
Then, nothing seemed straight. Too much time passed, everything was very foreign, no one was familiar. I realized I was at the wrong gate, and I’d missed our flight.
I’ve had a sense of unease in dreams before, but this dream was interesting because I truly felt that I was at risk, and that I’d strangely, perpetually missed out on an experience.
Eventually I understood there was a way out, and I took the next available flight to Mexico. My family was there waiting for me, in our hotel by the ocean.
Right now I’m trying to remind myself that like a missed, albeit fictional flight to Mexico, everything is going to work itself out.
approximatelyes.com 