Where is the luggage??

In the Pixar movie “Inside Out” (in theater’s now), there is a place in the mind where the deepest fears are kept under lock and key. In the movie, this fear is a giant clown. In my mind, this room holds plane tickets to St. Kitts and a security line two miles long. (and a centipede. Never forget the centipedes.)

Last night I dreamed that Mike, our roommate from St. Kitts, was here in Tennessee and was taking us to the airport to catch our flight for our last semester on the island. In this dream, I had known we were getting ready to return, but not that our flight was leaving that day – in ten minutes.

The Mister had to get back to start classes again, but I hadn’t packed any luggage! We only needed supplies for four months, but we had nothing! So I sent him through security and I resigned myself to go home, pack our bags and buy another ticket to join him the next day. Suddenly, the Mister turns around and comes back, waving his arms and yelling, “Don’t we have clothes in these suitcases?!” And lo and behold, if he isn’t pulling a giant suitcase through security. And, surprise! I am also pulling a suitcase that hadn’t been there before.

So now we have less than five minutes before the plane leaves, we’re running through this imaginary airport pulling two giant suitcases with us. I don’t know if I even have my passport and I’m hoping nobody will ask about it. We get to the gate just in time, but we didn’t check our big suitcases like we were supposed to, and we’re trying to convince the flight attendants to just let us take them on board anyway.

I don’t know if we ever made the flight or not; my subconscious must have decided that was enough of that because I started down some other dream tangent. I used to love airports and flying. The idea of getting on a plane in one place and getting off it somewhere completely different, in only an hour or two, always fascinated me. I loved the idea of so many people with so many different stories overlapping all in one place before they scatter again to the four winds.

Now, airports give me anxious nightmares. I have similar dreams – about having to leave for St. Kitts but not being prepared – at least twice a month. I won’t be surprised if I have these dreams for the rest of my life. That and centipedes will haunt me until the day I die.

There is a very creepy, sing-songy voice that plays in my head when I’m frustrated. It goes something like this: “Thank you for flying with American Airlines. Please pay attention as your flight attendant demonstrates the emergency procedures….”


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