Winged Destiny

She was right of course, he was not making sense, but. That was it; the ‘but’. No matter how he analysed it rationally, the fear remained. As if reading his mind Miranda broke into his thoughts. “Gordon, what would you tell one of your patients with this problem? You’ve explained to me so many times how powerful the mind is, and how we can all confuse reality with illusion so easily. It was a dream, or more like a nightmare; a vivid one yes, but let it go now.” She paused, then, seeing his remaining uncertainty, continued “Gordon, for heaven’s sake, you’re the star performer. What would people say if they knew that one of the country’s leading psychiatrists is afraid to get on a plane because of a dream?” This seemed to have some effect, Gordon grabbed his coffee, drank the remaining dregs and stood up.

           “You’re right, or rather I am,” he said smiling, “that could have been me saying those words. I suppose I’m so used to dealing with it from the professional’s perspective that I couldn’t appreciate the effects when it’s me that’s the victim. Perhaps I should brush up on Freudian dream analysis and his views on subconscious symbolism. He might be a bit out of date nowadays but at least he didn’t consider dreams to be forecasts of our future.”

           Miranda softened, “That’s better Dr. Siggy, and stop using those technical terms I’m a cook not a medico like some”. Gordon’s smile widened, he liked it when she used her pet name for him of Dr. Siggy, taken after his hero, Sigmund Freud. With this, the remaining concern over the dream vanished as he realized exactly how irrational he must have appeared. Still, he could excuse himself on several levels, firstly he had never been asked to address the annual Melbourne Psychiatric Symposium before and, secondly, he had never woken up to find himself out of bed, cowering in a corner, shaking with fear over a very vivid dream in which his aeroplane had crashed.

           “Now don’t forget to take my car keys and leave it in the blue parking zone. I’ll take your gas guzzler in for service and collect mine later today as we agreed, remember?” Miranda had to explain things carefully, Gordon may have been a brilliant psychiatrist but in everyday matters he could be annoyingly forgetful. She walked with him to the door before kissing him. “Now don’t worry, I’ll collect you tonight from the airport and we’ll have a meal to celebrate your newfound fame.”

           Gordon smiled, “O.K., I really do not know what I’d do without you in my life.”

           “Be late for all of your flights, that’s what. Now off you go, you’ll knock ‘em dead!”

           Gordon walked down the drive to his wife’s car and promptly froze. The rear passenger tyre was flat. He stepped backwards slowly, breathing heavily, it was just like the dream, in it his day started with a flat tyre. He almost turned and ran back to the house, babbling to Miranda that it was coming true. His wife could see that the situation called for some tough love.

“Do you mean to tell me that you’re going to let a dream stop you? Gordon whose car had the puncture in your dream?”

“Well, it was mine I suppose, but….”

“But nothing, your car had the flat tyre because your dream didn’t know you were using my car today, dreams don’t know anything Gordon, they’re not real. You’re letting your nervousness about public speaking control your life. This is your big opportunity. Now stop worrying. Let’s call a cab, I’ll call the garage and they can send someone over to fix my puncture and take your car in for its service so it’ll save both of us an extra chore for the day.”

           She had said nothing that Gordon was not telling himself. Feeling slightly ashamed he went back into the house and waited for his taxi to arrive. A few minutes later he found himself being driven to the airport, just like his dream. By now Gordon was becoming angry with himself; the puncture was on Miranda’s car not his and so what if they saw a total of three accidents on the freeway, accidents happened every day and the fact that there were three, just like in his dream, meant nothing, simply a coincidence. Anyway, Gordon was booked onto good old reliable MB107, a flight he had taken many times to Melbourne over the last three years, his dream had him crashing to earth on flight DHX0055 which he had never heard of.

           Through the automatic doors, up to the check-in. Usually, Gordon only had carry-on luggage, but today he was taking a mass of handouts printed specially for the occasion. He wanted to make an impression, and it occurred to him how important it was that he keep his head and not allow the event to overcome him. He was relieved to see no queue at the first-class line, a rare treat, but he thought it worthwhile, just this once. It had occurred to him that all the prettiest flight attendants seemed reserved for first-class, and this was no exception with the young lady now smiling at him appearing to be straight from some fashion magazine. He handed over his ticket and placed his case onto the conveyor.

“Dr. Palmerston, I see you’ve already reserved a seat,” she glanced at the screen in front of her, “no problem with baggage weight, sir. Here you are Doctor, seat 4A, window as you wanted. Have a good flight.”

Gordon looked at the docket and immediately froze, the world began to spin. For a moment he felt as though his heart would burst through his chest. “Sir? Doctor Palmerston, are you alright sir?” The attendant was obviously worried, he looked as though he was about to pass out. Gordon could barely speak, his lips were trembling, “Er, the fl…flight number, there must be a mistake, this isn’t my flight, it can’t be my flight. I take MB107, always have done, this is wrong. Give me the right boarding pass, this isn’t mine.” He was almost babbling. The attendant spoke clearly and quietly, just as she had been trained to do when dealing with anxious or difficult passengers.

“Ah, don’t worry sir, MB107 is the domestic designation, we are using it today for an international connection to the Emirates from Melbourne and so it simply has been given the international flight number DHX0055.” Gordon was turning a very vivid crimson as she spoke. “Please Doctor, there is nothing to worry about, it’s exactly the same flight, same time of departure and arrival, even the same boarding gate.” As Gordon collapsed. he seemed to hear a familiar voice but it faded as he slipped into unconsciousness.

“You had me worried there Gordie.” Gordon looked at the speaker, Leonard Bragg, a long-time colleague who had attended the same college when they left school. “I don’t know about premonitions but hitting your head on an airport floor is definitely not recommended.” Gordon had awoken to find himself in a small room with Leonard who specialised in social psychology and happened to be attending the same symposium. He’d been in the economy class queue when he saw Gordon collapse. Together with two male flight attendants Gordon had been carried into a small lounge where he had explained all to his old friend and to the two bewildered attendants. He looked at Gordon more closely and his tone changed. “Seriously Gordie, if you’re that scared then perhaps you could go on a later flight,” Leonard said this whilst looking at the attendants one of whom shook his head silently but emphatically because he knew there was no space on any flights until much later that day. The second attendant however stepped forward:

“Can’t make any promises mate, but I’ve a friend who runs a small charter service to Melbourne, strictly speaking it’s goods only but he might be able to fit you in. Wait here and I’ll see what I can do.” With this he left the room giving a warning glance to his colleague which told him to keep whatever he was thinking to himself. About five minutes went by when the attendant returned. “You’re in luck, the plane leaves in half an hour, about the same time as your original flight, commercial goods gate B. They use different departure and arrival runways of course but you should get there in time for your appointment.”

The relief on Gordon’s face was obvious, “I don’t know how to thank you, I feel so stupid, I’m a professional psychiatrist but………..” Leonard interrupted,

“You’re human like everyone else Gordie, even doctors catch the ‘flu you know, so why shouldn’t a psychiatrist have the odd phobia, especially when it’s such an important day for you.” The attendant stepped up to Gordon and held out his hand.

“Name’s Steve, you won’t know it, but my partner came to see you when she lost her bottle a couple of years ago and couldn’t bring herself to get back on a plane. Now she’s a top international attendant with B.A. – thanks to you. Only glad I can help, mate. Let’s go.”

Miranda paced the floor of the private waiting room impatiently. She was full of anger, worry, frustration and bewilderment. She knew three things: one Gordon’s flight had crashed, two Gordon was missing, three, that Gordon’s flight number had been changed to the one in his dream. Apart from this no-one seemed able to tell her what had happened. There was a knock on the door and a rather plump, short middle-aged woman entered. “Hello Mrs. Palmerstone, I’m Rebecca, and I’m looking into the incident in which your husband was involved, and I have some very good news.”

Miranda was then told the whole story. It all centred on the cargo plane which Gordon had finally boarded. It appeared that no-one had taken into account the effect that Gordon’s additional weight would have on an already heavily laden aircraft. Although using different runways, this, and the passenger flight Gordon should have been on, took a similar flight path. However, the smaller plane had difficulty in gaining sufficient height resulting in a near mid-air collision and forcing the larger aircraft to sheer away. The pilot had skilfully completed an emergency landing. This had resulted in the aircraft ploughing up most of an adjacent sheep paddock. However, apart from some very frightened sheep, no-one had been seriously injured. 

Rebecca finished her account with “Of course there will be some penalty for the cargo flight as they were not supposed to take any passengers but nothing too severe, given the circumstances.”

“Circumstances? Under what circumstances exactly?” Lots of things were going through Miranda’s mind as she asked this, was Gordon going to be implicated and would his nightmare story be revealed to everyone? Instead of being regarded as one of the country’s leading psychiatrists, he'd be branded as some kind of superstitious fool, someone who needed psychiatric help rather than dispensed it. She stared at Rebecca who could see the turmoil written on her face.

“Oh, don’t worry, it has nothing to do with your husband, he shouldn't have been on the cargo flight but that was the pilot’s responsibility not his. As far as the official story goes there won’t be any mention of the exact reason he was on the cargo plane.” She paused, as if uncertain to continue. Miranda’s expression was enough to prompt her to reveal more. “You see, the odd thing is, our initial inspection of the downed passenger aircraft reveals stress cracks between the port wing and the fuselage. These were not caused by the crash nor they were they spotted in the last scheduled service. These fractures posed a severe hazard to the aircraft’s integrity.” Rebecca leant towards Mirandah meaningfully as if to ensure that the full meaning of what she was about to reveal was evident to her. “I don’t know why I am telling you this but you have had a traumatic and quite strange experience, so this stays only between the two of us.” Here Rebecca paused as though still not believing what she herself was saying. “Flight number DHX0055 was doomed. If your husband had not behaved as he did the plane would have taken off as normal and broken up in mid-air. Your husband’s nightmare saved not only himself but the lives of hundreds of people on board. “