I dreamed last night I was sleeping in a bed on an airplane that rose to 165,000 feet so as to avoid bad weather at 30,000 feet. I was in First Class (obviously) and was presented with a line graph illustrating how the plane’s ascent moved us close to the firmament and to God. Cabin crew and staff assured us that First Class did not get us access to God or to Heaven. I comfortably chose sleep over worries about scraping against a thin sheet of phlegm that lies between between commercial aviation and the icy stratosphere.
I have not remembered very many dreams lately. I connect this one to a Ronnie Hawkins line I’ve been thinking about lately: "I turned 41, I don’t mind dyin’!"
