Food for Thought

336.

We wake to the unmistakable sensation of a dramatic reduction in air speed. This is followed by our pilot's announcement that we have begun initial approach and will be touching down in fifteen minutes. I look over at Mustang as she slowly responds to the call to action; seat backs up, shoulder harness' on and instruments stowed. She looks at her watch and decides she can execute a round-trip to the head with time to spare and is off with a sleepy 'good morning' along the way.

If this day is going to start on time I am going to need a gallon of JP-5 Italian roast. I ask our flight attendant who is hustling around preforming landing protocols with a serious look, if a single cup might be available prior to landing. He makes the executive decision that it is possible, yes, but only after his initial directive has been performed. I leave it at that and tend to my own duties as Mustang returns from her trip down the short aisle.

"I'm curious," I open, "if you went deep enough," I look at my watch, "in the two hours and nine minutes, into REM and remember any dreams you might have had."

"Funny you should bring that up because I did, lucid and in Avatar quality color," she says with interest in the subject. "I was in a battlefield, maybe WWI in France, smoke, sickening smells of gunpowder, sulfur, fire, total chaos, carnage, human suffering. I was in a trench trying to keep debris and shrapnel off my head long enough to rise and fire. But every time I did my carbine jammed and I sank back into the ditch wondering what to do."

"Go on."

"After another futile attempt to do the soldierly thing and fight fire with fire, I heard a voice from somewhere above, maybe from a tree, suggest to me, and it was very clear - cutting through the cacophony of hand-to-hand combat - that our problems cannot be solved using the same energy that created them. I was stunned at the profundity of this and found myself wanting more than anything else, more than a cease fire, more than a warm blanket, more than clear water and a hot meal, to love. To love someone. To say I love you and mean it with every fiber of my being. I also thought how magical and miraculous it would be to have it be reciprocal, to have someone return the emotion with the same degree of authenticity and respect."

I sit in stunned silence listening to her retelling of her dream, more than simply because it is a fascinating story with deep allegorical significance but because I, too, had one of a similar nature. I waste no time in the sharing of mine.

"I am playing chess with Albert Einstein, amazed that I have kept the match alive to the point of us each having just our Kings and a pair of pawns. I wonder if he might be toying with me but accept the reality that either way, this is terrific fun. As is common, our conversation between moves is half philosophy and half mathematics. A few moves, and maybe two hours ago, as he took my bishop with a diabolically designed trap, he raised the question of free will, asking my thoughts on perhaps the most esoteric mystery of the universe. One thing leads to another, I take his knight with what can only be described as an ambush, and he suggest that thoughts are energy as much as the cleanest smashing of atoms," I detail, noting that she seems as interested in my dream as I was at hers, and reaching the same conclusion that they are connected by serendipity as well as subject. "He tells me that all of man's problems cannot be changed by using the same thought patterns that created them. Think outside the box being the current meme. The symbolism of him mentoring me on this subject is overwhelming to me and lost in contemplation I can only watch as he maneuvers me into check in three brilliant moves to end the game."

"It's the same dream. The same meaning. Mine of energy and yours of thoughts. Do you see? Our collective sub-consciousness is guiding the way. There is no way we are going to defeat domestic terrorism by engaging in fire-fights, detention and increased surveillance."

We hear the Captain announce that we land in two minutes and that the opportunity to provide the coast-to-coast service has been a pleasure. He terminates the communication with a "and I hope you liked the stir-fry and gelato."

"Certainly food for thought," I softly say.