Downward Spiral to Madison Avenue

It was a small plane, small enough that the pilot was visibly accessible to the passengers. She looked Indian or Pakistani, and had a slight accent. There was no copilot that I could recall. We had departed from a strange airport, one that may have been visited in a previous visit here. This flight was taking many of us home, wherever that may be in the ethereal world.

I sat in a window seat, as is my typical preference; I like to view the landscape below during the flight. It was partly cloudy out today, so the ground could be seen only intermittently while plane cut through the afternoon air. From time to time I would be transported to an aisle seat, chatting with the female passengers around and occasionally my male counterparts. Soon my subconscious sent me back to the window. Perhaps I was in a single seat row, it's hard to recollect now.

About midway through the flight, the plane turned sharply to the left, entering a downward vortex nearly instantaneously. The passengers reacted with despair as they were pressed against the right side of the cabin, but I wasn't sure whether to panic just yet. It didn't take long for me to join in their fear as I saw the shifting cloudscape sweep past me at all angles. It was clear that this was probably a one-way trip. I turned to see the pilot, struggling with all her energy to fight the descent and bring the aircraft under control. Distress calls echoed out of the cockpit as she desparately tried to tell anyone in radio range of our predicament.

I remember wishing to myself that it was all a dream, that we weren't really falling out of the sky in this unfamiliar airplane in an unfamiliar world. With each spin of the plane my hope diminished, and I began to prepare myself for the inevitable end. I tried to imagine it, the feeling of death. Would I even feel anything? Would I sense a stinging sudden pain throughout my body before all went black? I didn't know if I should look out the window, so I alternated between looking at the other passengers I had been talking to and closing my eyes. Curiousity got the best of me a few times, and I saw the view from the pilot's seat of the ground directly ahead. I thought of all the things I never got to do, of the people I wouldn't see again. I braced myself for the impact, thinking it had to be soon. I braced for the feeling that I had never known and would only know once. I braced for the end of my days.

Seemingly as soon as it started, it was over. The aircraft touched the ground in a perfect landing, coming to rest shortly thereafter. We were on a downtown city street, surrounded by amazed pedestrians and cars moving out of our way. The captain had somehow pulled off an urban landing. An image of the stubby plane appeared in my mind, resembling a cartoon animation. It was gently moving with the traffic, its fat body and stubby wings apparently designed for navigating the tight fit between skyscrapers. The passengers sighed in unison, releasing the stress that had built inside of them during the traumatic descent. I awoke to a new day, raising my head from my pillow and avoiding the stench of sweat and urine that would surely engulf the dreamworld cabin as we taxied to an urban bus station. I couldn't help but feeling that I had been granted a lease on life, if only for a moment. However, I soon catalogued it all as surreal, and the thought of breakfast soon took hold. I rose and headed to the kitchen, leaving the experience of the dream flight behind.