Dreams about airplane crashes and passing gas

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What would Dr. Freud have said?

A dream from two nights ago still has me scratching my head.

And it seems possible a story I’ve mulled over for 48 hours might be worth telling even if it’s somewhat embarrassing. Who knows? Maybe someone will read this and even offer some decent — and free — dream analysis. So here goes …

In this dream, I was at a vacation resort in Mexico with a bunch of friends from 30 years ago in high school and people I know in Muscatine. We were all having a great time lounging around the bluest swimming pool I had ever seen. Of course, we were drinking.

At this point, I should point out:

  • I’ve never been to Mexico.
  • Lounging around a pool just hanging out wouldn’t be my idea of the perfect vacation.
  • George Wallace
    George Wallace

    In the middle of this dream, I wondered why I was vacationing with, among others, George Wallace, a high school classmate and career Army man who is a chief warrant officer for the 38th Sustainment Brigade based in Indiana. I’m not sure when I last saw George, but it was long enough ago that we still called him by his middle name, Mike.

Up to this point, I was having a lot of fun in the dream. Everyone was.

But then it was time to leave and most everyone flew back on the same flight — on a jet that crashed somewhere in mountains.

I survived the crash, but the dream didn’t end there. Before waking up, I dreamed I was huddled in the wreckage with a Muscatine woman I don’t know well. And I’m not going to identify her even though she’d likely find this story funny. I can’t think of even one reason why she would have been in this dream.

There was nothing X-rated about any of it. We were just two people huddled there trying to keep warm and stay alive. Then, for some reason, I was hit with a world-class case of flatulence. As we huddled in the wreckage and snow atop some unknown mountain, I left it rip. A fart to end all farts.

Anyway, the absurdity of it all caused my companion to break out into convulsions of hysterical laughter and then I woke up.

In the Daily Prompt: Polite Company, the editors at WordPress said: It’s never a good idea to discuss religion or politics with people you don’t really know. Agree or disagree?”

I don’t know about that, but I do know farting is one of those things we are taught not to do in polite company. Beyond that, I still have no idea what this dream means. So, out of curiosity, I did a Google search for “dreams about farting,” which unearthed suggestions such as:

And now I’m almost sorry I asked. Couldn’t it just mean I ate too much kale for dinner Sunday night?