Here come the warm jets

I don't generally remember my dreams. I have had a few distinct dreams that I do recall to this day. I will talk about one now. In early 2000, I was recovering from a truly epic case of the flu. The kind that kicks your butt and laughs at you. I spent a good deal of time high as a kite on Nyquil in bed, watching Jackie Chan flicks. At the time, I considered the dream to be a product of the cough meds and illness. These days, I still don't know.
 
In this dream, I was in a crisis situation; it was pandemonium. There were frightened people running everywhere. I was in the company of a girl who is a friend of my sister, but I am not personally very close to. Nonetheless, we were scared and looking for an exit. I recall being so very grateful that my children were not with me at the time.

I had the vague feeling that I was in an air terminal, because I knew the threat was a plane crash. I ran along polished floors, seeking exit. An image from a movie -- was it Airplane -- passed through my mind, of a jet bursting through the windows. But nothing about this situation was funny.

We were starting to run, feeling the need to make haste. There was debris. We were not in an airport, I realized. Still, nothing about this scenario made sense. We were confused, looking for exit. My dominating feeling was gratitude that my children were not with me.

I awoke, disturbed and nervous. Something about the clarity of the dream felt more like a memory than a dream. I rarely remember my dreams, and even then, not beyond my initial waking moments. They always slip away, and I don't concern myself much over it. But this one lingered.

On 9/11/2001, the cousin of my sister's friend died in the World Trade Center. I must have been with her somehow, but I don't understand how or why. Or it could be, of course, the brain's natural inclination to make connections. But my emotions felt real, the surreality, the lack of understanding. I did not see my impending demise. I just couldn't understand why I was fleeing a jet in this sort of building.  Odd.  Glad I got it down in writing.  Maybe I can put it out of my head now.