the Andrew Bailey

Totally Fake Airline

I had this dream a day before or after my last one, but don't let that make you think that they are connected.

I'm riding an escalator, going up about 50 feet or so from underground to an airport terminal. I get to the top, and there are windows on all sides, and I take a seat at a gate. I'm traveling with some graphic designer guy and an Indian lady. It seems that I'm on a business trip, because I recognize these people as real coworkers of mine. I'm not sure where we're going, where we're at (not any airport I've been in), nor why, but we all have boarding passes, backpacks, and so forth. We look at our passes, and realize that me and the guy have totally fake names and are traveling on a totally fake airline. Apparently, this was the plan, and only my real self thought this was odd; dream self and others didn't say or do anything about it.

An airplane arrives at the gate, but it isn't the one. It leaves after a while, and in 30 or so minutes, a rather small aircraft pulls up. The guy and I board.

Inside, there are about 6 government agents (Secret Service?) and no one else. One was sitting up front in plain view, co-pilot probably. He had a dish of soapy water and a rag, and was furiously cleaning a hand mirror with it (not sure why). He asks if any one of us are such-and-such. Both me and my buddy looked down at our passes, and none of us had that name, and say so. The g-man says OK and nods somewhat approvingly.

Within a few seconds, the pilot comes, and we taxi away from the gate. But instead of going to the runway, we loop back around to a hangar, possibly connected to the terminal. It's dark inside, and once we get in, the door closes, and all the lights go out. After that, I think we all got off and went home or something.

It seemed like a good enough place to wake up. Don't know the reasons behind it. Maybe we were being watched by someone else, and wanted the appearance of going away, but not leaving. I'm pretty sure that the fake airline and all those windows would make it completely pointless.

Posted under Literature.

You can't complain about this anymore. It's perfect!