A busy night

For the past few weeks, almost every night I have had peculiar dreams, convoluted to an extreme that makes them impossible to describe. Bits and pieces of distorted past experiences, people I once knew and long ago forgot, situations and places all mixed up.

Dreaming is not at all unusual for me. Over time I’ve experienced some real epics, many of which caused me to talk and quite often to scream, but I’ve never had such dreams visit so persistently.

In the past, I could account for why a particular scenario played out as I slept. Generally it was connected to something that had happened, was worried or upset about.

But this latest batch of nonsense I’ve not been able to make sense of.

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Unless I acknowledge them as soon as I awaken, my dreams are promptly forgotten, which I believe is true of most people. It seems merely speaking of the dream suffices, without having to write down the details.

Today, for example, I stumbled into the kitchen where Grant was serving cat breakfast and told him I was exhausted from frustrated attempts to board a double-decker Concorde.

Double-decker Concorde. Right.

In fact, I’d boarded the aircraft, finding my seat in the lounge area (on Concorde!) where I was disturbed to discover that the table tops had not been cleaned and were covered in chunks of fur. (Now where could that detail have come from, do you suppose?)

Additionally, the access steps for the upper deck (!) had not been put in place, so I went in search of a crew member to advise them of these short-comings, during which process I somehow managed to disembark, finding myself down below on the ramp which was populated by people I recognised, but who were clad in heavy-duty white plastic, head to foot. They moved about like robots, paying me no attention.

Oh and…I was toddling about in stiletto heels.

It was getting late and I didn’t want to miss the flight, so I searched for a way to re-board the aircraft, while at the same time thinking perhaps I shouldn’t as I had become nervous of taking the flight. This, I am certain, has to do with the Air France Concorde crash, the horror of which is lodged permanently in my brain.

However, it appears I did eventually find my way back aboard because as I was fastening my seat belt, a number of other employees came to sit in the same cabin and I counted that we were 14 in all. My dreams are sometimes very detailed! They also frequently involve counting.

Not surprising, the latter, as I’ve spent my life counting: Calories, pounds/kilos, heads (as in passengers on board), miles, days, money…etc. When I see numbers I automatically begin adding or subtracting.

Then, as we were hoping for an on-time departure, nothing happened. We sat, uninformed. What a way to treat Concorde passengers, I thought. A rumour went around that we were delayed to take on passengers from a cancelled Malaysian Airlines flight and I became concerned that because I had a discounted ticket, I might be removed in favour of someone more profitable.

This would never have happened, it was taboo to delay a Concorde flight. On one celebrated occasion a late passenger who was told to run to the gate turned out to be non other than Maestro Itzhak Perlman. He arrived ship side just as they were getting ready to close the door, a little out of breath but smiling good-naturedly, lovely man that he is.

Being hauled off a flight to accommodate late arriving full revenue passengers did happen. You grabbed your stuff and disembarked, with a plane load of passengers wondering what sort of criminal you were.

Malaysian Airlines did not and does not operate out of JFK, yet my dream was specific!

The outcome I’ll never know, because at that point Lily began to wail and I woke up.

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When she first came into service, there was no discounted fare for staff on Concorde. Senior management were sometimes granted tickets. The fare was 20% more than First Class. Otherwise, your only chance for a “ride on the rocket” was when an aircraft was deadheading for a flight and the empty sector was sold to staff for a flat fee.

Eventually, the rules relaxed and staff could purchase a ticket at a discounted rate, but at over $1,000 it was still expensive, especially considering we could travel free on a subsonic flight.

Concorde was a large part of my life for many years because I worked a morning shift which saw two departures and an arrival. Quite often there were charter flights in addition.

She certainly wasn’t our only daily occupation. We handled a 747 flight to London and several flights to the West Indies as well as numerous arriving flights and various early afternoon departures. We were almost always busy. But Concorde was a special aeroplane and the people who flew her became good friends. The crew, that is. Some of our special services staff became well acquainted with frequent travellers as well, but that was not “my bag”.

In consequence, Concorde does feature in my dreams from time to time, though how last night she became double-deckered, I cannot imagine.

Another curious feature of that dream involved an arriving flight that came onto the ramp as I was staggering around in my high heels. It was in British Caledonian livery (BCAL was absorbed into British Airways in 1988) and it was a small, bizarre-looking aircraft driven, as far as I could make out, by a single propeller. And it was covered in rust spots.

Very likely.

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It is not surprising to dream about the past, but how does the brain create such a fantasy?

Many of my other dreams have nothing to do with aviation but they are equally muddled. I can’t help wondering if this long series that I am experiencing just now is to do with current events and the uncertainty of life. We try hard not to dwell on it, but there are so many every day reminders.

Our favourite distraction, going for a drive, is fast becoming an extravagance.

We may well have to give it up. At present the weather is not conducive to sight-seeing anyway, but we have been consulting the map of Vermont to plot another short outing whenever weather permits.

No time soon according to the forecast, but as I’ve pointed out, it is often wrong.

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