Unclenching
What I saw when I opened my eyes
I was on a plane, and the plane was going to crash.
Not the kind of flying dream I normally have. Someone else was in charge. I didn’t have control.
I don’t remember where we were going. What I remember is the pilot telling us. The plane diving. Knowing.
I braced myself. Tensed my whole body. Squeezed my eyes shut.
My mother-in-law had died in December. The kids and I had been back and forth to Asia twice in six weeks. My husband had finally come home for the first time in two months.
I had signed a separation agreement with the school. It was still confidential. I was still showing up every day, leading, holding it together for the teachers and students, and my own children. The only person at work who knew was my assistant.
And then I had this dream.
The airplane had landing cameras — the kind you get on some international flights, where you can watch a live feed of the ground beneath you.
As we dove, something prompted me to unclench my eyes. I looked out the window. I looked at the landing camera.
It was so beautiful.
And also, we were crashing.
And it was so beautiful.
I held both of those things at the same time. The beauty and the impending devastation. The view and the descent. My open eyes and my braced body.
The plane landed in a forest. It didn’t nosedive. The trees slowed it down, and it skidded to a halt.
Every single person walked off.
We were taken to a gym — some kind of community center. There were people there to help us. We were safe and warm. And shortly after, a bus came and took us where we had been planning to go.
By the time I was even able to call my husband, it was over. I’m going to be a little late. I’ll see you later. That was it.
My whole body relaxed. Unclenched.
I went to work and told my assistant about the dream. She was one of the only people who knew what was happening. I needed to say it out loud to someone.
Yes, I’m losing my job. Everything is tense. Everything is uncertain.
And also, what would happen if I opened my eyes? Unclenched? Is there beauty here, too?
That's the part I keep coming back to. Not the crash. Not the landing. The unclenching.
I didn't steer the plane.
I opened my eyes.
And it wasn't as bad as I feared.
There were trees that slowed us down. A warm room to shelter in. A bus that came.
🕊️
SAM
