What the ... ?

I can never remember my dreams, so I'm writing this one down before I forget.

I was a passenger on a turboprop plane that had to make an emergency landing. The plane was doing all kinds of crazy things -- nearly landing on a busy road, crashing through a large plate-glass window in a building that it didn't have enough power to clear. Before landing safely in a hilly field. Oh, and we were at the beach. So how was there a hilly, grassy field so close to the beach?

Yeah, even in my dreams, I'm an editor.

The dream even had a villain. She was being mean to fellow passengers. Then she fell down when the plane made a banked turn and she couldn't get back up, so I had to help her get back in her seat and put her seat belt on. She looked like CNBC's Mary Thompson. She spoke like Tilda Swinton. And I can't remember whether she said, "Thank you." Manners, people!

I also dreamed that at the same time I was helping her, I had to lock a door on the plane that had come open. I also remember being relatively calm despite all the excitement.

I also remember that as fellow passengers were disembarking, I loudly announced, "I'm never flying prop again." Which made them laugh. But apparently nobody wanted to join my passenger revolution.

Then a man -- not sure if he was supposed to be a pilot, or a flight attendant, or an airline representative -- directed me and my luggage to a stone staircase that led to a hotel/restaurant connected to the airport, where I was supposed to make a connecting flight. I think they were trying to separate me from the other passengers and any media that was coming to cover the crash landing, since they knew I could be a rabble rouser.

As I ascended the staircase, I awoke. Since the dream gave me too much adrenaline to go back to sleep, and since I forget my dreams like I said before, I headed for my keyboard to write it all down.

And in case you're wondering, I had mesquite steak last night. With yellow rice and wax beans. And sweet tea. And a chocolate-peanut butter square from one of those no-bake dessert mixes. And yes, everything was properly cooked. So, no, this wasn't a feverish dream from food poisoning or indigestion.

And that's the second time I've survived a crash landing in my dreams. Although the other time was on a small jet plane. And someone else died on that plane. And both were planes that developed problems during, or just after, takeoff.

What does it all mean? Why was I at the beach? Where was I flying to? What was I doing for a living? How old was I? Why was I alone? What was a British-accented meanie doing in my dream, and why did I want to help her? Since everything happens in threes, if I dream about a crash landing for the third time, will I die in the dream -- and in my sleep?

Oh, and I'm REALLY never flying prop again. Not that there are many commercial airline routes left that fly turboprop. But I mean what I say. Even when I say it in my dreams.

Now, is there a dream interpreter in the house?