The Dream of the three Plane Crashes

You were incredibly lucky you missed that flight. You were initially so frustrated because that happened – the ticket was expensive. But the reception of the dire tidings – terrible accident – no survivors – forced you to look upon the incident from a new scope. You'd never missed a flight in your entire life. And now, the first time you missed one, it was destined to crash?? That's weird... There surely must have been some kind of providence which intervened for your sake. And could it now be the same providence which, manifesting itself through your intuition, urges you to turn back, as you are on your way to catch the next flight?

"This cannot be," you are trying to reassure yourself, bringing forth every sort of argument that the faculty of yours you are used to call reason can come up with... Providence...? There is no such a thing. There is no way anyone or anything can know of a plane crash prior to it happening. And even in case something knew, there is no way it could have intervened to save you – you have a free will, after all. And let's suppose that it knew and could help you out – why you? No, all this was only a strange coincidence and nothing more. You are not superstitious. How can you even think in such a way? You must let go of your angst right away. Anyway, there is nothing you can do anymore. You are already seated on the plane and the doors are shut.

The plane took off. You are noting the distance between the fuselage and the runway increasing, in agony, moment to moment to longer moment. And then you cannot believe that, in very rapidly elapsing moments, the ground is getting closer again at crazy speed. It's gonna crash! You have to act fast. Impelled by overwhelming instinct, you rush for survival. Without something like time having intervened, you've flown over the aisle, you've opened the door, and you've jumped out... It was quite a miracle you made it unscratched.

Now you are totally justified for being engulfed in dreadful paranoia, as you are on your way to catch the third flight. It hasn't been a good sign seeing both of your previous flights crashing. You are now sure this has happened because of you. It must be your fate to die in a plane crash. You know that this third flight is also going to crash, with deep intuitional certainty. But you cannot turn back. You must fly.

With a slight relief, but still suspiciously, you watch out of the window as the aircraft steadily and solidly gains more height. The ground is left way down and the plane effortlessly and noiselessly is slipping through the night sky. Everything seems normal, after all. Could it all have been just a mocking coincidence?

But alas! No! Your life's prolongation is far from secured yet. The dark figure of a high mountain ridge suddenly appears ahead, in slight contrast with the night sky. The plane is still gaining height, fighting its way against gravity. But whether it makes it over the ridge or crashes straight onto it... it is a marginal matter. In benumbing agony, your gaze fixed out of the window, you are waiting for the outcome, striving mentally to sustain hope, until every last bit of it is washed away by the torrent of desperation. There is no doubt, the plane together with you on it is soon going to be reduced to debris scattered about the cold rock.

There is only one thing you can feel now: fear. It's not just any fear. It's a profound fear; the most profound fear; the absolute fear; the progenitor of every other kind of fear; the only real fear: the fear of death. And it's not that vague fear one experiences when mulling over the fact that he's going to die at some undefined point in time or knowing that there is a possibility to die at some other definite point. It is the unmitigated by any hope fear following the unequivocal certainty that your existence is going to cease shortly, before you even have time to meditate on why you even want to be existing. The countdown is on.

In such a condition of pure fear, there is no room to feel any other thing. Since there is no hope, there is no agony either. You are not panicked. You cannot scream or cry. Those parts of your brain responsible for feeling are paralyzed. There is only one thing you are capable of doing: wait. You wish that it all ends quickly but it takes tormentingly long. You get up and start walking back and forth the aisle, hoping that this will make time run faster... but it doesn't.

You have an overpowering desire to speak to somebody. You cannot think of something particular you have to say but you understand that now is your last chance to say something. It's only then you take notice of the other passengers. It is obvious they are all aware of their imminent calamitous fate. There isn't hysteria going on, however. You know they know because of that ghastly look on their faces. They are also walking back and forth and you can see on them that they're suffering the exact same kind of fear that you do. They look like zombies and the suspicion that you look the same way as they further terrifies you. You wonder if you are already dead but you rule this thought out quickly because wondering isn't something a dead man would do. But still, no one, including yourself, doesn't seem to be alive in the full sense. You desperately try to speak to everyone you cross paths with but all equally ignore you like you are a ghost.

The end is nigh. There isn't time left to speak. The desire to pay attention to anything other than the approximating dark figure of the mountain has faded away and your perspective has changed to seeing only that. 12... 11... 10... your throat cannot scream but your soul squeals for all those dreams to remain unfulfilled. 9... 8... 7... your eyes cannot cry but your soul laments all those memories that will now stop to be. 6... 5... 4... relief is coming; all past and future times are now being squeezed to a blunt, static, non-existent present. 3... 2... 1...

What? That's not what you imagined the end like. All is black. There is nothing to see or sense in any way but you are still thinking; you are still existing. There is no end! This the beginning of eternal... bliss... torture... dullness...? You will have time to find out. -1... -2... -3... -4...