I had a dream I was on a plane. A totally normal flight. Going in for a landing when things went wrong at the last minute. I swear I could feel the heat of the flames as I saw them coming through the fuselage as the plane is breaking up around me. I woke up on my feet beside my bed sweating. I’ve never had a dream like that before or since. I’ve never done drugs or other vices. That was over a decade ago and I can still remember it like it was a real event in my life. Like it was landing in Denver, I was sitting a few rows from the front on the left isle on the emergency exit row.
I had a dream about watching my dad die in a factory accident (he worked a lot of factory jobs in the 80s and early 90s).
I could smell the machine oil, hear the thump of the presses (feeling it in my feet, too), and even remember the brief bruised feeling in my shoulder when the paramedic shoved past me to get to him.
It felt so real and vivid, I felt very strongly for the longest time that I’d had a premonition about how my dad would die.
It somehow even sticks with me every now and then, despite him having passed from brain tumours 13 years ago this month.
Weird.