I Had A Dream

Dreams are mysterious.

But the source of Monday night's (or was it Tuesday morning's—who knows?) dream was unequivocal. I dreamt the following:

-Den and I are talking.
-A black-topped 747 flies by, low to the city.
-It shudders.
-An instant later, its left wing falls off.
-The plane pitches toward the ground and disappears from my view behind some buildings.
-Flames from a distance.
-I make a 911 call on the cell.
-We make our way to the wing. It's pretty much intact. There is luggage everywhere. No people or bodies. I wish I had a cellphone with a video camera.
-We work our way to the resting place of the rest of the 747, a grassy clearing rimmed by trees. I couldn't bear to look any more.

The material for this nightmare was last Friday's Vancouver Sun. I had just read, before turning out the lights, that there are 9.8 million people in Paris and environs, and that this figure was larger than the population of 28 European nations. I also read an article about the commercial impact of the recently foiled UK terrorist threat on aviation (Flying 1000 miles is 65 times safer than driving that same distance. 1500 Americans needlessly died in the one-year period after 9/11 by opting to travel by car than by plane.).

If the above is any indicator, from now on, I'm going to be watching and "reading" only carefully chosen "material" before bedtime

***

Speaking of cellphones, I picked up this new Samsung model last Sunday. A slider model with still and video camera.

It has an MP3 player and uses micro-SD format memory cards.

That meant a trip to the local shop yesterday to pick up a card reader. My word, was it ever a positively embalming experience. The guy who served me looked like some failed 60s British rock star, with a name like Nigel or Martin. He had big teeth, his blond hair was parted to one side, and he was in serious need of vitamin D supplements.