How shall I die today? Let me count the ways...

I experienced a most spectacular dream last night, and I feel its memory simply deserves to be preserved in words.

The first scene I can remember was of the New York skyline on a sunny day. It played out very much like a commercial, as a male announcer rattled off facts about some of the city's tallest skyscrapers, including the Empire State Building, over background music typical of a commercial. I was hardly paying attention to the words, though. Sweeping views of tall buildings rising above the clouds filled my vision, and I felt as if I was watching an advertisement on television and sitting in an airplane at the same time. The ground seemed miles away, and the ocean beyond seemed to curve upward into the sky, rendering a marvelous fusion of deep and light blue. Wherever I was traveling to, I had a dreadful feeling about going back.

Jump forward to a vision of an overly enthusiastic, more than slightly nutty pilot commandeering the small plane I was on, acting utterly giddy about lining the aircraft up with an exceptionally narrow runway and landing in a matter of seconds. For some reason, I was in the co-pilot's seat. It seemed as if he was going to crash the plane into the runway at a forty-five degree angle, before he quickly leveled it out for a smooth landing. The runway, though, was full of obstacles, including various parked and moving cars and trucks, tents, and pedestrians who looked like stereotypical tourists--pale skin, gaudy flower leis around their necks, khaki golfer shorts, visors, white T-shirts with loud flowery designs and the word "Hawaii" all over them, maps, brochures, and massive camcorders in their hands, a general look of awe and naïveté on their faces. Before we came to a complete stop, we had run over quite a few members of this species... and neither of us nor anyone else on the runway seemed to be concerned in the slightest. I watched as the right wing of the plane nearly took out a couple casually walking along the side of the narrow runway, as if they were just leisurely windowshopping. We managed to stop just before reaching a parking lot full of cars.

Suddenly, I became a regular passenger in the coach section. Everyone on the aisle seats stood up and began fumbling with their luggage, ready to make their exit. I gathered up my possessions and waited for the crowd to start migrating outwards. I soon found myself in the terminal (delightful term for an airport building, hm?), or what appeared to be so. A quick glance to my left, and I noticed a small conference room behind glass doors, in the center of which old men in formal suits appeared to be discussing something of importance. The walls were lined with exhausted-looking travelers sitting on their luggage, all minding their business. I started walking in the direction opposite of the room, and spotted my mother conducting business at a ticket kiosk. A thick glass wall stood between me and her, and the only way to go seemed to be through a large cylindrical pipe that was about half as tall as I am. Convinced this was simply the prescribed way to get over there, I climbed into the mouth, placed my bag on my lap, and began sliding down the tunnel. I flew down the chute as it twisted and turned, ever descending. It was well-lit, so I was able to see the narrow confines fly by as I held on tightly. What an exhilarating ride!

I ended up in what appeared to be a retail warehouse, and a very poorly lit one at that. Naturally, I was barefoot, as I always am in my dreams, and I could feel the coldness of the concrete floor as I padded along, uncertain of where I was. My primary motive, as soon as I arrived, was to find an escalator that would lead me up to the upper level of the terminal, so that I might meet up with my mother and actually make my next flight. Here, I was surrounded primarily by various racks of shoes seemingly reaching up to the ceiling. Of course, the ceiling was not visible, for it was obscured by shadows. Some of the shoes seemed to hum and quiver in their boxes, as if ready to jump out of their nests and begin walking off. As I wandered a little farther, an aggressive saleman with a moustache approached me and asked if I needed help with anything. I flatly told him "no" and started walking off in the opposite direction. In every corner I looked, I could not seem to find an escalator or set of stairs anywhere, which I found odd for a multi-storied airport terminal. The building seemed to transform slowly into a factory populated with heavy machinery, making grinding and grating, yet strangely melodic, industrial music. I wandered slowly down a narrow corridor, my feet ambling along the icy floor, gazing about a cold environment of monochromatic steel grey. It was so cold, in fact, that I could see the vapour of my own breath before me. I was so awe-stricken I seemingly forgot all about my flight agenda for awhile. I stepped onto a metal grating leading over a seemingly vast pit of heavy machinery, its raw power causing the bridge to vibrate violently. Despite the heat generated by the machines, everything was shrouded in a heavy mist, and it wasn't long before I found myself damp and cold. As I looked down over the railing, I could see that all the heavy metal was in motion. Giant pistons pumped up and down on either side of me, themselves producing noise so intense I could not hear myself think. Below, bevels, gears, cogs, and pulleys of gargantuan proportions maintained their mighty revolutions. Looking up into the shadows, I could see nothing but the tips of what appeared to be great stalactites. Suddenly fearing for some reason that the ceiling might be closing in on me, I began to run in a sort of half-panic. As I fled past the restless machinery right beside me, it produced a sinister laugh that seemed to echo throughout my head. Whenever I looked at anything but the narrow, winding corridor ahead, I witnessed the mechanical face of some horrendous robotic demon. In an instant, a sudden gust of wind swept me right over the railing, sending me plummeting downwards for metres and metres as I flailed my arms. I landed what seemed like head first into a large pool of water so icy it was just short of frozen. I could easily feel the pain the cold caused in my muscles from head to toe... if I didn't get out immediately, it would be just another death. Several chains with links twice the size of my paws drooped into the water, and I cleverly latched onto one of them, shivering and soaked as I climbed it slowly, then jumping from it onto another steel platform. A small wooden door materialized into the frosty concrete wall, and without thinking, I opened it up and stepped through it.

My bewilderment wasn't alleviated any when I found myself in the dim, grimy office of an auto shop. The most prominent features of the room were disorganized stacks of papers, a buzzing computer, and several model cars piled up everywhere. I exited through another door frame and scurried through an expansive garage full of elevated... not cars, but coffins. On the opposite wall, several large garage doors were wide open to the outdoors, affording me views of blinding blue sky and verdant rolling hills. I decided that my goal would be to get outside, and search around out there. The floor upon which I was standing, however, seemed to be covered with a thick fluid substance which was slippery as oil but conveyed the colour of blood. I slipped and fell this way and that, until my fur was more or less completely covered with the mysterious substance. It took me what felt like a good ten minutes to reach the doors, but I rejoiced as I ran out onto concrete blacktop, leaving the building behind. The place still looked distinctly like an airport, and I was determined to somehow locate the terminal level I was originally supposed to be in. As I ran, it didn't seem as if gravity had much of an effect on me. I could easily jump ten metres into the air, not hitting the ground again until thirty or so metres away. Movement was so effortless it seemed as if something else was controlling me. The sensation was euphoric and liberating, to say the least. I utilized this manner of travel to make it all the way to a vantage point from which I could see the runway I had originally landed on. With a renewed sense of glee, I hopped down a steep grassy slope, not stopping until I encountered a tall electrified fence sporting a series of horizontal steel wires. Dense underbrush crowded the fence on the other side, with gnarled limbs of old trees reaching over the top. I suddenly lost my gravity-defying powers along with quite a bit of hope when I realized I would have to take the risk of trespassing in broad daylight to make it back to the terminal--providing I could even get over the fence. Like second nature, I walked along it, looking for weak points that I could somehow exploit. It wasn't long before I located a particular spot where a couple wires were sagging, opening a space that looked just large enough for me to squeeze through. My Arcanine senses warned me of the danger of attempting to fit through such a narrow opening without touching any of the wires, but being the daredevil-by-nature that I am, I decided to go through with it anyway. Very carefully, I slipped my left leg through the opening, followed by the rest of me. Lo and behold, however, I could not quite make it. The sagging wires, for some unexplained reason, became taut within a split second, not only slicing deep into my chest but also frying the rest of my body with electricity. A raspy buzzing noise filled my aural senses, and my vision was overtaken with a blinding white light. As one might expect, I woke up moments later, paralyzed for a few moments. As soon as I recognized I was safely returned to this world, I sat up, yawned, rubbed my eyes, stretched, and smiled. What a magnificent way to die! I thought.

Yes, I love my sub-conscious and imagination very much.