Woke up at an airport with just a ticket and me, confused, dazed, but on my way to a destination,
no cash, no luggage, no worries, being free. The tickets had Aachen and Bromma Airport upon them and, looking at the times, I wasn’t about to leave within a few hours, so I couldn’t check-in. That left me with a lot of time to explore the airport. The first thing I noticed was the sheer size of it, the ceiling was high, so high I don’t remember if I saw it. It can also be my memory of this dream, but I can recall the entire dream and scenes, but there was no ceiling, just something, very high above me. And there were rooms, a lot of rooms. Not the big terminal you’re about to expect at an airport, but a lot of corridors and small rooms and, finally, it wasn’t crowded with people like most airports are.
Recalling the tickets I had I believe the return ticket, from Bromma to Aachen, had no date printed, and the ticket to Bromma, apparently I was at Aachen airport, had a departure time of, I believe, 16.44 printed. Anyway, while exploring the airport I came upon room after room, and for some reason in each room I had to sit down, to think, rest or both. When I had about 1,5hr left to check in, I decided it was time to check in. But to check-in I needed to go to the gate (d’oh). As I kept searching and looking for it I came upon a lot of gates, dozens of them, with planes heading for every direction, but not to Bromma. The signs did show the way to the gat, I believe it was gate 4, but there were barriers. Following such a sign would result in the way being blocked by a wall, some sort of ridiculous security check or sliding doors that didn’t open.
I hate panicking in a dream, but I was about to (for those wondering whether I’m mixing up reality and my dream, I’m quite aware of when I’m dreaming and can, most of the time, control my actions in a dream, sometimes even ‘decide’ what the dream is to be about). But there I was, about to break down, because I didn’t know why I needed to catch that plane, I just knew I had to or else… After a lot of running around, feeling like this was some kind of labyrinth, not an airport (hmmmz, some airports are labyrinths for real) I found gate 4 and was about to check in. Only to find out ‘my’ seat had been given to another man, a boy actually, just a few years younger. I could see him sitting in the waiting area, with just a few minutes until the boarding would start. As soon as the check-in desk closed and boarding started I woke up, feeling sick, really sick….
Epilogue: I really haven’t had a dream like this in months. I mean lucid dreaming isn’t unknown to me, it occurs at least once a week. But this dream is so weird because of the number of real life details which I apparently couldn’t have made up during my dream because they exist. I consciously know of the existence of Aachen Airport, but Bromma, really, never heard of it. After waking up, remembering the dream and regaining control, I at first thought it was some sort of Asian airport (a friend is going to Asia for a few days, holiday), but it isn’t, it’s apparently a Swedish one. Wait a minute, as I think about it, I think I might have been there on my way back from Thailand, six years ago. The way to Thailand was Amsterdam->Frankfurt->Bangkok and the way back was Bangkok->Stockholm->Amsterdam. But I can’t recall the name of that airport… And what did the high ceilings have to do with all of this? And the strong urge to catch that plane, but all the barriers that existed between me and my destination? And finally, who or what was that boy taking ‘my’ seat and leaving for Bromma instead of me? This dream has been keeping me busy for about three hours now. Maybe I should stop thinking so hard and just let it rest. But I’ve got a strange feeling about this dream, don’t know what. Ah well, better finish my coffee and continue cleaning the house, try to forget what happened. If it’s real important it will turn up later on, or not, at least I’ve written it down. Maybe I should continue my dream diary, something I stopped a few years ago due to the amount of that diary cost me and because I felt losing touch with reality where the real and dream world started fading together.
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