Strange dream last night.
Apr. 18th, 2019 01:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gridloreI mostly remember it.
For some reason, I was using a wheelchair with no or minimal use of my legs. Kirsten and I were at SFO flying somewhere. I was stressed due having to check my chair, use the uncomfortable, rickety, transfer chair provided by the airport, and the general stress of flying.
Luckily, I had my service animal with me, an African Grey parrot named Gandalf. We got boarded and ended up with a row to ourselves. now, the most dangerous time in flight is the 90 seconds after take-off and before landing. That's where dynamic instability is at maximum, winds can screw you, and there is no time to correct mistakes. So as we are taxiing out to the runway, my stress levels go through the roof. (This actually happens to me every time I fly.) Gandalf, sensing my state, nuzzles up to me and announces, loudly, "Chill the fuck out!" Which is what we trained him to say as a signal that I need to focus on getting centered.
People around us chuckle, and the flight attendant, doing her final seat check, stops and asks "what did he say?" Before I can answer, Gandalf thunders "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Flight attendant laughs and says, sorry, it's my job." and moves on.
The only other bit I remember is Gandalf, having hopped over to Kirsten, looking out the window and us joking about him feeling at home.
For some reason, I was using a wheelchair with no or minimal use of my legs. Kirsten and I were at SFO flying somewhere. I was stressed due having to check my chair, use the uncomfortable, rickety, transfer chair provided by the airport, and the general stress of flying.
Luckily, I had my service animal with me, an African Grey parrot named Gandalf. We got boarded and ended up with a row to ourselves. now, the most dangerous time in flight is the 90 seconds after take-off and before landing. That's where dynamic instability is at maximum, winds can screw you, and there is no time to correct mistakes. So as we are taxiing out to the runway, my stress levels go through the roof. (This actually happens to me every time I fly.) Gandalf, sensing my state, nuzzles up to me and announces, loudly, "Chill the fuck out!" Which is what we trained him to say as a signal that I need to focus on getting centered.
People around us chuckle, and the flight attendant, doing her final seat check, stops and asks "what did he say?" Before I can answer, Gandalf thunders "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Flight attendant laughs and says, sorry, it's my job." and moves on.
The only other bit I remember is Gandalf, having hopped over to Kirsten, looking out the window and us joking about him feeling at home.
no subject
Date: 19 Apr 2019 20:47 (UTC)The question lies in when the clock changes? Is contemplating an action enough to alter your life span? I'm looking at a menu, and I see they have a French Dip sandwich. I love French Dip, so I decide to order it. Suddenly, my watch shows 11 minutes to live. Panicked, I change my mind and order the chili. Watch now shows 22-odd years.
Re: Chili
Date: 20 Apr 2019 02:03 (UTC)That was the idea: It's a shadow cast by your actions, changing constantly but seldom so drastically.
The “creepypasta” aspect comes from the idea that it’s too late, you’re doomed, enjoy your last minutes!
[There was a creepy old Twilight Zone episode like this; in a recurring dream the woman stands before Room 1214, which is a morgue, and sees rows of new bodies laid out, with one slab empty; with a bright smile the attendant says, “There’s room for one more!”
Comes the day she books a flight home or vacation, whatever, and with a bright smile the ticket agent says, “Certainly! There’s room for one more!” and hands her a ticket on Flight 1214. The woman flips out, bolts in panic; in the distance the plane takes off, bursts into flames & crashes, total destruction.]
no subject
Date: 20 Apr 2019 02:17 (UTC)An anecdote said to be a true story involved a guy on a skiing trip in the Alps, who woke one night in full sweating terror; as the room in flames would physically force him out, so a mental compulsion no less strong said the same: Get. Out. NOW.
No bathrobe, no slippers, standing in the hotel hallway in his pajamas, starting to feel foolish - when an avalanche-loosed boulder the size of a car impacts the hotel and smashes his room and everything in it to smithereens.