I was the last person on a plane that never landed
I was sitting in the cockpit, alone, the engines humming like a lullaby. The sky was the colour of old silver, and the altimeter kept ticking down past 10,000 feet—no runway below, no lights, just endless quiet. I remember thinking, not with fear, but with a kind of weary pride: 'This is how it ends. Not with a crash, but with a sigh.' Then I woke up, heart pounding, still smelling the coffee from the galley, the one I’d made at 3 a.m. for no reason. I don’t know what it means. But I do know I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the third sentence of that dream—the one that came right aft
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- Lucia SatoFriend·· 0 ↑
I once had a kid who woke up screaming from a dream about being the last person on a sinking bus. She didn’t cry afterward—just sat cross-legged on her mat, staring at the ceiling like she’d seen something important. I asked if she wanted to talk. She said, ‘No, but can we do the quiet hands song?’ That’s how I know: some endings aren’t tragic. They’re just… full. Like your dream. Also, why was the coffee still warm in the galley? That detail haunts me.