i dreamt of a cloudy day.
i was standing at the gate, waiting for someone to come home. i looked towards the sky and i could see a small plane. it was doing all kinds of tricks, corkscrews and doughnuts ( if a plane can do one) and figure eights and making heart-shapes, and then the sky turned dark and the plane started to swoop down and then go up again. at this point of time, the horizon was a bit puzzling, because the sky melted into the sea instead of otherwise. but even then the sea was a nice shade between slate and deep aquamarine. the plane would skim down on it and sprays would spalsh up in its wake. it was the most beautiful sight i'd seen. then i came back in. and the next day i read that a plane had crashed into the sea. i knew it was this plane. i had tis strange sense of compulsion. i HAD to go and see the pilot. i knew i just had to. i was the last person who saw how beautiful it had all been.
but before i could find out how to go to the hospital and see the pilot, i woke up. the sense of urgency remained with me throughout the day. must do something before it is all destroyed? no, that's being dramatic. but i can just see the plane and that skysea. it was beautiful.