In my dreams, I see you at the foot of some mountains
And we’re taking some pictures or something
And we’d better hurry up
It’s late and the sun keeps shooting through pine trees
And the grass stains are wet on your new jeans
And we’d better hurry up

~ Rilo Kiley

I am sitting on a bus with my mother. She is one row behind me, to the right. We’re discussing my intense fear of airplanes. She is saying, “I don’t mind airplanes, but I hate the process of getting off the ground and into the air.”

And because it is a dream, she says this, and I can feel it, the takeoff. The loud noise and craziness until that one moment where, *poof* — you’re in the sky.

“Ohhh,” I reply. “Taking off doesn’t give me nearly the same terror as landing. You just crash to the ground and bounce along until you ideally stop, and I can’t breathe until the plane slows down and I know it’s all over.”

And I can feel that too.

Then as if reading each others’ minds, we both look out the front windshield onto the ground and laugh, because the bus not only appears to be lacking a driver, but is winding around a very narrow mountain with no guardrails. How ironic and possibly jinxing to discuss the scariness of airplanes when there’s no guarantee we’re getting anywhere safely right now.

So I just hang on for the ride and pray for the best.