I dreamed last night that I was flying to Europe to see Chris, and I had to sit between four business people who only spoke about stocks and investments and bonds and such. I had one piece of Starburst left. I woke up thankful that he only lives in New York.

I like airplane dreams, because in them I can fool myself that I don't mind flying. In fact, I was terrified coming in to New York by myself. Not because I was by myself, but because, of everyone onboard, I felt the least experienced. Everyone knew when to expect that sudden jolt or know that, yes, the plane does go THAT CLOSE to the water when flying into Laguardia. I was hanging on for dear life. I didn't know that those fluffy clouds that look so harmless and beautiful from the ground give such trouble for airplanes -- going through them, one's stomach is thrown into your throat. Maybe it's just me.

In the dream, the plane didn't take off from the runway, but took off in an alley and dipsy-doodled around the city's high rises and schools (almost crashing into one that looked much like my university campus). I was calm. I hope I sleep and have that dream on the way back to Toronto.