And as though to prove it, here's a paragraph from the article:
These instinctive Freudians also considered dreams to be valuable omens, as demonstrated in a study asking them to imagine they were about to take a plane trip. If, on the eve of the flight, they dreamed of the plane’s crashing, they were more likely to cancel the trip than if they saw news of an actual plane crash on their route.
Well, I dreamed I died in a plane crash of course. I was dreaming about something else--a sort of American Idol with underwater aquatics, at which I was a spectator, and I was having a conversation with my friend's boyfriend about my motorbike [combination of story research, and an episode of Corner Gas I watched that night].
Then the dream shifted and I was sitting in the front row of an airplane, next to a guy I knew, but not well (don't know who it was.) The front of the airplane was wide windows--the view we would have if there wasn't a cockpit in the way. I was about to stand up and go to the bathroom when the seatbelt sign came on because of turbulence.
So I sat back down, and the pilot (??) came out of the cockpit to tell us not to worry, we were just going through some turbulence (duh.) Next thing I knew, we were flying low through the downtown of a city, almost at street level.
And I thought: Gee, must be some emergency landing. And then I thought: Gosh, there's no way this is going to end with us alive. This is it. This is how I die. (And someone behind me was saying "Oh my God" over and over.)
We were heading right towards a big bank-like building, at street level. There wasn't really time to be scared. I grabbed the hands of the guy next to me, cause it seemed like the proper etiquette in such a situation [must have read that in the Chesley crash articles]. I thought briefly about Fernando and my family, and how I was about to become one of Those People in News Stories.
The nose of the plane was reaching the doors of the building, and I closed my eyes, and waited for what I expected to be a very painful, but probably quick death. I was waiting for the feeling of smashing into stuff, and then fire.
And I was just starting to feel warm, when my body slowly awoke--I assume because my brain was incapable of imagining that sort of pain. I didn't awake with a start like they do on TV. I just felt this prickly wash of adrenaline taking over the from the feeling of heat, moving from my feet to my head. And then I was just lay there, thinking about the dream.
...If that was my body's way of telling me to wake up cause my bladder was full... it was pretty darn dramatic!
