I was standing in Dublin’s O’Connell Street, reputed to be the widest urban street in Europe. Years since I’ve been there actually. In the distance was a rumbling. I stood in the middle of the street listening as it grew louder. Within seconds, the rumbling was a roar and the ground shook. A volcano erupting perhaps, somewhere over in Bray or Clontarf or some other unassuming Dublin suburb.
Still I stood there, completely unafraid. And then the crashing was upon me.
And from the direction of that side street – the one that houses Bewleys
famous coffee shop and the side entrance of Clerys with its famous clock – came a plane. A bloody great monster of a jumbo. First its nose, the size of a house, hove into view, the pilot and his mate clearly visible inside. It rose up between the tall buildings and I thought – there’s no way this can fit through that gap.
Sure enough, as its wings appeared I saw they were slicing through the brickwork and in slow motion, the rubble, debris and smoke flew through the air.
And still I didn’t move. I wasn’t frightened at all, I just stood and watched in amazement and awe. Oh, I must remember to say that this didn’t feel like a plane crash (though it had fallen from the sky) nor was anyone getting hurt as it trundled along the street causing mayhem.
Just a powerful yet strangely beneficent Gargantuan that would not be stopped.
The visualisation is still so strong that I can’t find a picture to add here that will do the vision justice.
Look, I’ve never had a premonitory dream in my life. But I have had dreams that I knew were wonderful metaphors that had come to teach me something. One was a magnificent story about a troupe of Tudor musicians, resplendant in jewel-coloured velvet costumes who welcomed me with love and treated me as their honoured guest. As I dressed in the robes they had left in my room, I knew I would be the star of the performance that evening and they would be my supporting band.
This was not about being a prima donna, and swanning it over anyone else; it was the most affirming loving dream I can remember. What did it teach me? To believe more in myself, to tell me how loved I was, to understand what value I can bring to others and to remind myself to go out and spoil myself with some nice new clothes! I’m worth it.
As for last night’s dream, I’d forgotten about it by the time I woke up. Switched on the computer and within moments it was beeping at me. Skype Chat enabled, it’s Judith Morgan beeping me.
Have had two brilliant ideas for you. Need to talk to you straightaway.
Judith of course has never had ‘a bit of an idea’ in her life. They are all brilliant and she knows she only has to say those words and I start laughing. Funny how some things can make you laugh even though you’ve heard them before. For example, for approximately 25 years my dad has been saying "Right. Are you set?" to which I respond "No – but the jelly is". And I still laugh every time I say it.
Anyway, Judith and I chatted, first on Skype, then as the ideas got brillianter and brillianter, by phone.
It was only as I put the phone down half an hour later that I remembered my mighty benevolent jumbo jet thundering through Dublin city centre. I don’t really know what it meant of course but it’s my dream so I can interpret it as I want, at least until some do-gooder of a dream analyst tells me a different story.
So, I think perhaps the plane was my brilliant future. It’s coming whether I like it or not and nothing’s getting in its way. My brilliant future doesn’t hurt anyone else either but it’s big and bold and er, trundling down O’Connell Street obliterating history.
I’m having a laugh really, in case you think I’ve got a right superiority complex. I’ve no delusions of grandeur because you of course have your own brilliant future. Your plane is coming too. Or maybe it’s here already and you are up there, riding on its nose, enjoying the dizzy heights and a clear vision of what lies ahead.
Me, I’m off to bed. I’ve a plane to catch.