9 Dec 2025
Dream
I was at an airport in a long but quick moving line. We grabbed tickets from little shelves as we moved along the line. I was near a young white man—he was behind me at first, touching my head and shoulders and hips with both hands. I wasn’t upset, but I didn’t know what he was doing. When I moved behind him, I touched his face and his shoulders briefly as if returning the gesture. I don’t know what any of it meant, but it wasn’t malicious or creepy. There were purple tickets northbound and brown tickets southbound for the same flight. I was struggling to choose the right ticket as I passed several shelves during the line, and the white man chose a ticket I think I wanted but didn’t get. He knew where he was going. The last ticket available was a brown one southbound. I’m just saying these details, I don’t quite remember which color represent north or south. I felt this was wrong so I went to an attendant who was a tall middle-aged black woman with large features, curly hair extensions or wig, purple lipstick, a headset, and a professional button-up shirt and vest and slacks. She was bigger and taller than any real human and was helping someone else when I came up to her about my ticket. I told her I had the wrong one, a brown one that had the number 10 on it, symbolizing 10am. She told me that I was at risk of missing the flight, which I knew and nodded with a smile, and she also told me something else I knew but I don’t remember what it was. I ended up sitting with her on those benches at a flight gate, and Cody had his head on her lap and his butt and feet near me. A family of two black moms, who looked a little worn out but very kind, appeared pushing their disabled black daughter in a stroller shrouded in black fabric. The girl was leaning outside the stroller at first, but I guess she went under the covering later. They also had a couple younger able-bodied black boys with them. Cody sat up to smile at and talk to one of the boys—one touched his fingers. Next I remember gluing large decorative objects onto a bag, and the woman and Cody were still present somehow. There was a fake donut on the bag, various fake desserts, and it was quickly looking bulky and weird, but I did it anyway. It was like a crafting project and it was satisfying to put things on the weird, grainy blue-grey glue. At some point the woman told me a story of someone who was so distracted with finding a ticket that she missed her flight entirely. I watched the woman gaze out the window as if watching the flight herself, showing what a mistake that would be. This I knew too and accepted. This woman told me stuff I knew all dream.
When I finally boarded I went to a large strange room with wooden benches and panels, and numbered seats. The seat I had, “10C” or something involving 10, was split across two other seats, meaning one seat was for storage, and the other in the corner was for actual sitting. I didn’t want to be in the exact corner and audibly said ew but I got into the seat anyway, figuring that depending on how this section/room filled out, I’d have some leeway to sit where I wanted. I saw through a glass pane one of my childhood best friends, Max, staring at me. I haven’t seen him in years nor do I know how to contact him—I thought about him recently. I sort of smiled and lip-synced to nothing, as if casually singing but making no sound. He eventually looked away and I kept settling my stuff into my seats. The other side of the room got super tight, folks were sitting almost on top of each other, and an unknown young man settled near me, briefly separating me from my own stuff or at least posing that risk. I was aware of where my stuff was in relation to him let’s say. Overall this was a peaceful dream. The themes could have been stressful (missing a flight, decorating a bag too much, the family traveling with children including a disabled one, disliking my seat) but things kept moving and the attendant woman helped me. Her presence and appearance were soothing and gratifying. I think this had to do with “baggage with Cody” and my own feeling of directionlessness, and the message was that moving in any direction is better than getting stuck over the particulars.
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