I dreamed. I was still living in my father's house. Sometimes he was sick, and sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes he was dying, and sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes he was angry, and sometimes he was all about the love. Sometimes I felt a little bit okay about being there, sometimes I didn't. Regardless, I felt it was time to leave. I had a plane. It was a big one, and I kept it in my father's front yard. Entirely against the deed restrictions, but shit happens, right? I had somewhere good to go. I knew I did, but don't ask me exactly where, because I don't know, but I knew it was somewhere safe and there were real possibilities waiting there for me and the infant in my care.

I took the infant and I boarded the plane that was supposed to take me there. There were two pilots in an open cockpit. One was a man, one a woman. There was something wrong. They were arguing. They could not decide who was most fit to pilot the aircraft. I felt some bit of discomfort with either choice, but I did not know what to do and there were no other pilots available for that craft. The pilots kept arguing as I listened in. I was becoming confused and beginning to feel desperate. I wished that I knew how to fly the thing myself. As I listened to the arguing, I agreed with what I heard. One pilot (the man) was acting like a drama queen because the other kept reminding him of his past blunders in the cockpit. Her various and absent-minded forays into idiot-land were also a topic for discussion. Hmmm... which one to choose? Who would you rather have as your pilot? A male diva with a short fuse that could interfere with navigation and safety, or a female Jeff Spicoli, who has admittedly been stoned in one form or another since about the third grade?

I really wished I could fly it myself. Even if I decided to give it a shot (!), I wondered who would care for the infant during what would certainly be a very bumpy and erratic flight. I imagined the poor thing would wail and be starving the whole time. I could not imagine where I might set down a plane of that size from time to time to care for the infant. My plane, due to certain irregulatities, was not allowed on airport runways. I began to feel quite hopeless.

I'm thinking I should take the infant and abandon the plane and its pilots. I don't want to go back inside the father's house, but I have nowhere to go and I have an infant to keep safe. Again, the choice seems to be to wander about with no shelter or safety and an infant in tow. Or I could kick the pilots out and live in the plane. But how long can I keep a big ass plane on someone else's lawn before I run into trouble with the authorities?

I'm thinking I should find ways to ignore my dreams. I grow weary of the Catch-22.