Stanley Kubrick, the creator of “2001: A Space Odyssey.”
Sometimes dreams are weird.
Take last night’s:
I’m outside by the (real life) telephone pole just outside my apartment.
I’m watching an Air Force jet oh-so-close just above in a blue sky as it banks hard to the left and proceeds into a few acrobatic spins before its final approach to (real life) McChord Air Force Base. The roaring thrust of the engines thrill; the flight maneuvers are riveting.
Suddenly it’s night.
My building has partly morphed into a residence where (seemingly) sister and father reside. From inside my apartment I hear a commotion and crash. I step outside to, surprisingly, a landscape frosted in an inch of snow.
Next to the telephone pole an alien spacecraft resembling a lunar rover has suffered a hard landing. There are some broken and collapsed pieces but the body remains intact.
I glance toward my building just in time to see the lights switched off. The building’s black. Everyone’s gone to bed.
I’m without my keys. And dressed in a single layer of light clothing (and barefoot?).
I’m in a dilemma. I’m underdressed, in snow, with no way to get inside and everyone asleep.
The alien spacecraft is familiar and of no concern.
Suddenly a thick presence appears behind my left shoulder. A male presence, a man sprung from the shadows of the (real life) edgy hood. He has bad intent and is a moment from swinging his arm around me from behind.
I abruptly awaken to bring the dream to an end.
What interpretations that?!
What I’ve long said: Humans are to be more feared than aliens?
Or I missed a calling by not joining the Air Force? Or NASA*?
*National Aeronautics and Space Administration