Long dream last night, years and years passed before I woke up...
Bobbi and I went to visit Brigid, who was staying in a little apartment remarkably similar to the one in which I lived in Virginia Highlands. She was living there for a year because she was doing some TDY secret squirrel thing or another and could hardly wait to get to back out in the country. It was a cute little neighborhood with lots of sidewalk cafés and a climate like Atlanta in the spring. In fact, it was a lot like Atlanta in the spring, what with the magnolias and dogwoods, except flat, and with a canal like Broad Ripple.
Then I was late for a plane flight and was running down the jetway and they had just closed the cabin door and opened it back up for me. The plane was only about 1/3 full, and so everybody was staring at me as I boarded, since it was obvious who held up the departure. This is one of the more esoteric variants of the "giving the book report nekkid" dream I've ever had.
The plane flew a route that would have been more appropriate for an FB-111 trying to penetrate Soviet airspace than a little commuter jet. I was looking out the window at trees flashing past for a lot of the flight, and at one point the pilot was banking over a lake and I was idly wondering if he was going to drag that wingtip and send us cartwheeling.
When we got to Imaginary Generic Dream City Destination, I was at the same hotel as the pilot, and he kept hitting on me, but I was for some reason absolutely oblivious to all the really oblique pickup lines he was using until he practically drew a diagram on a cocktail napkin.
Then I woke up and it was time to go make coffee and feed the cats.