Dream: A forest trail to the tarmac

This is an extremely hyper vivid dream featuring my friend B.

The dream starts in a dense forest. It’s hard to tell where we are exactly, and perhaps in the dream I am very aware of the difference between types of forests in the world. We are not in Australian forest, for there are no gum trees and no characteristic eucalyptus scent. We are not in tropical Asian rainforest, there’s none of that sticky sickly sweet smell. The air is cool and not warm or humid… so we must be in Europe??

We are climbing slowly, picking our way up a gentle incline. The path is ragged, the soil packed into shape by footsteps only and at many points we almost lose our way. We ascend into a darker section of the forest and there is no one around at all. It is completely still and we cannot hear any birds or animals, not even the rustling of wind.

Suddenly we come to a concrete set of steps. Standing where we are, the trail we had been following seems to go off to the left, around a few rocks and then disappear from view into the undergrowth. The steps we see are completely straight and very well formed, ascending into the distance beyond where our eyes can stretch. We inspect the steps closely as they look so out of touch with the reality of where we are, deep in the dark forest. The concrete is poured such that each perfectly formed step is connected to the next with the vertical aspect between two steps also filled in. It is as if someone has laid down a long concrete ribbon and pressed it into the earth to form a staircase.

We stand at this crossroads, wondering if we should take the formed path (is it a shortcut of some sort?) or continue on the raggedy little trail. We don’t discuss it very much and B starts off on the trail on the left.

The scene cuts abruptly to a small airport. I intuitively know that B is in jail and I am there to get her out of jail. I pause to take in my surroundings, standing at the entrance to the airport. The large room has just one single unlabelled gate, with a cluster of seats surrounding the sliding door which goes straight out to the tarmac. On the tarmac is a group of people, perhaps 30 or so, standing within a roped off section. They are calling out and waving their arms, but we cannot hear them from inside the terminal. There are a handful of security guards around, and a few visitors.

The only sound we hear is that of fighter jets. Impossibly small planes (I guess all fighter jets are kind of small) zoom very close to the airport but none of them are near the runway or the people. The noise is quite loud and they disappear from view so quickly that I wonder if they are flying faster than the sound of speed.

The security guards escort the visitors towards the gate and one man unceremoniously presses a button to open the glass sliding doors. The group outside on the tarmac are not able to rush forward, though they move excitedly, bristling at the edges. Stepping out onto the tarmac, the noise of the jets becomes unbearable and I quickly scan the group to find B. She is wearing an oversized white T shirt and a dark blue beanie, looking impossibly small as if she somehow had become a child.

I rush towards her and she is crying.  

Let’s get out of here now, I say. Somehow the rope gives way easily and she is outside the group. We start to run towards the gate going into the terminal and just as we are almost there, she says Wait, I must say goodbye to my inside family.

The fighter jets are still zooming around as we run back to the roped off group and approach a few men. At that moment one of the guards approaches us and I freeze with fear. Cold runs through my veins and I am afraid we will both be put into the roped off group. She hugs one of the men while another man looks on with a blank expression. The guard ignores both of us and turns around to a third man.

Come on guys, you gotta get some while you can. He says and my feet feel glued to the ground while I am tugging frantically on B’s sleeve to get going.

Then I turn around and see what the “get some while you can” was referring to. He is holding an impossibly huge box of Ferrero Rochers, the box being so comically large that it obscures his entire body. There are a few chocolates missing and a few more upturned. We all stand there gaping at this impossible sight, and then I wake up.