D R E A M S

I was on a flight to Nice, France. It was a domestic flight or at least, not transatlantic, because it was a smaller plane. There was also something weird about the front of the plane, because I could look out the front the way you can in a bus or a car. Like there was a big windshield. I don't remember much about the flight, except that as we were landing I looked out the windshield and there was construction on the tarmac with workers waving us to not land, so about 50 feet from the ground, the pilot pulled up suddenly and we started to turn around 180 degrees almost right away, much faster than a normal plane would. As we made the turn, I saw this sort of giant garage/hangar that was multiple stories. It looked like a plane could fly into each bay for landing. Somehow, my dream self knew these hangars to be for lesser-class flights, but our airline was allowed to land on the tarmac. Also, the floors of these hangars was sloped upward, I guess to slow the planes down right away as they landed because the hangars were impossibly shallow. After we turn the full 180 degrees, I see a row of very French-looking buildings just beyond the airport.

Just after we land (we being Claude, me and one of our friends whom I can't recall), I get a call on my cellphone. It is a past lover, Jeff, calling to tell me that he is in London. I say I am in Nice. He says he's calling from his friends cellphone. I say I am answering on my own cellphone. I don't remember much else of the conversation, but meanwhile, Claude and our companion have raced ahead of me. I start walking through the airport without really knowing which direction I should be going.

After a while, I start getting nervous that I'm going the wrong way. I am about to call Claude to ask him if I'm going the right way when I get to the lobby of the hotel that connects directly to the airport. My dream self recognizes the lobby and realizes I've been here before. There's tons of wood panelling everyhwhere. Now I know that the reason I'm here is for an annual convention (though I don't know what it's a convention for). A woman whom I met at the last convention and I bump into one another. It is like a reunion. We hug and say how good the other looks. She has medium length black hair. I realize that she is a shoe designer. She is here with her other friends who design other types of clothing. I realize that they all make their designs to go with each other's designs like a little club or something and it just happens to be a big hit with the public, which makes all of them very successful. They all dress a little weird, but I don't remember how. I can remember that the shoe designer has designed some blue suede women's slippers with little curlicue flowers on them in darker blue stitching. I remember a merchandise-style moment of seeing all of their different clothing items on a wall. We bid our goodbyes and I go meet Claude by the front desk.

Somehow, it is instantly later. The shoe-designer girl tries to call me on my cellphone, but I don't answer it in time. Then, she tries to call me on my other phone, which I have for some reason. I miss that call too because I'm calling the voicemail on the first phone. As I'm listening to her voicemail, she walks right past me, saying her message into my other voicemail box. It's a weird deja vu kind of moment, but I hang up my phone and walk with her to her table (still in the lobby) and we all hang out.

There was more, but I don't remember it.

Brian posted at 2:44 PM.