Lindsey and Phil have managed to gain access to a small helicopter. I'm in the back seat, laying with my cheek to the seat like a child, and Phil decides to fly over a rock mountain to get to the ocean. I'm thinking this isn't a good idea, but Lindsey seems up for it. So we fly, barely missing scraping the helicopter's rail thingies on some treacherous-looking crags. I'm terrified and hide my face until we land in the sand.
Next I'm in a glass submarine (what, did I OD on Discovery Channel or something?) with some random dudes. I get the impression that Sean Connery is there, but only because The Hunt For Red October is the only submarine movie I've ever seen. This dream was pretty cool. We sank to the bottom of the ocean and watched all kinds of fish and sharks pass over us. The colors were vivid and I wasn't scared at all.
I'm interested in the strangers who inhabit our dreams. Are they real people from some other dimension or just shadows of people we've passed on the street? How do our brains come up with these composite sketches and why aren't we freaked out that strangers are walking around in our alternate universes without guest passes or invitations?
I've had several dreams in which I hurt or murder someone, but the most memorable dream I've ever had was about a janitor in a basement. We were talking and suddenly I bit his pinky finger off. There was this weird moment of silence and shock between us. I put my fingers to my mouth and spit out the severed finger, gave it back to him, and ran away. I had this dream when I was about ten or eleven, but it was creepy and unforgettable. I can't forget the janitor's old, horrified face. It's as if it really happened.