Getting dragged off a plane (and other fiascos from this week)
Fiasco 1:
I don’t fear a lot of things in life, but I do fear losing control or not being able to predict my behavior. I am very accepting of all things I cannot control: other people, an asteroid hurtling towards earth, how the universe works, chaos, etc.
But I desire, like many others, to be in control of my own mind. When that goes, the ultimate sense of fear and dread takes over.
After recovering from a 2-week-long migraine (yes, really), I’ve been experiencing non-stop vertigo. While vertigo isn’t a new sensation and something I’ve dealt with before at one point or another, having it for this long in waves is trippy— no pun intended.
Last weekend I flew to California to surprise my dad for his birthday. It was supposed to be a quick weekend trip of 2 nights. On Monday morning I was boarding the plane to fly back home to New York when my vertigo amplified 20x. I felt like I was falling through the floor and spinning upside down all at the same time. I couldn’t walk. As soon as I sat down in my window seat I felt my heart racing a million miles per hour and looked down at my trembling hands. I was having a panic attack and my fight or flight instincts kicked in.
I ran to the back of the plane to alert the flight attendant— sure that I was having a medical emergency because my irrational mind had convinced me I was dying (common thinking during a panic attack).
Next thing I knew, in an instant, I woke up back in the terminal in a wheelchair with people standing over me. The doors shut, and my plane pulling out of the gate. I had fainted from getting so worked up and was carried off the plane while unconscious.
My mom came to pick me up where I sobbed all the way home, humiliated. I had never had anything like that happen to me before. After a doctor prescribed me medication to help with my vertigo, nausea, and anxiety, I had to return my mom’s house and try to calm down. I felt claustrophobic. I felt like I needed to break the walls of the house away and push the roof off.
I felt like I couldn’t breathe in my own skin suit and needed to get out. But maybe it was California. The desert sands, the cacti, the lack of trees. The bad memories. Feeling like a ghost doomed to wander the halls of an abandoned place. I felt trapped in California, as I always do. I wanted to go home. I needed to go home.
But surely, I eventually calmed down and assured myself that I’d be home in a couple more days.
Fiasco 2:
Back home, safe and sound in New York, I was heading out the door to go run errands when I reached for the handle of my front door and it ripped off in my hand. No, I did not acquire some super strength powers in my sleep.
I was kind of stunned, and all I could do was laugh. But then I realized, I couldn’t open the door at all. I was essentially trapped inside with no way out.
I called my super to come help. A while later, he showed up outside the front door unable to open it from the outside without a key. I devised a plan for him to go wait out back in the courtyard, which I would then toss my keys out the window to him and then he could in the my front door.
So hanging out of my third story window, I was aiming to toss the keys through the fire escape to land in his direction. He caught them!
I watch him walk towards the building again, to which he begins pushing on the door, but not going inside. I shout, “What’s wrong?” He looks directly up at me through the slits of the fire escape. His eyes wide.
“Uh oh… I moved the stone to keep the door open. It’s locked from the inside.” He says.
I closed my eyes and let out a long breath through my nose.
“Any one of these keys get me in this door?” He asks holding them up. “No.” I reply bluntly.
“Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to wait for someone to come through and let me in.” He chuckles. There was no tone of haste in his voice. I nod, agreeing, knowing that’s all we can do.
One young woman comes out of the second back building (the court yard connects two apartments), and tries to leave to get to the street through my building but of course is unable to. She’s rightly confused, but the super explains the situation. She looks up and I give a little wave.
A few moments later, a man comes from the back building as well, trying to do the same as the woman. But this time after the super explains, he gets angry. Yelling at him. Now I’m hanging out the window telling him to calm down and he’s pointing up at me as if he were cursing me saying this whole thing is my fault.
So with this small traffic pile up, the super is telling him it’s not my fault to which the young woman, now sitting in the outdoor lawn furniture who was only watching the exchange before, was now pointing to the super saying it was his fault. I felt bad feeling like I had to defend him somehow, so I just try to blow it all off as silly mishaps.
The man didn’t like that and went off on me that if there were a fire we’d all be trapped. I shout back down telling him we’re not trapped, that he’s over exaggerating and can just go through the side of the building through the garbage bins to get to the street.
I saw a light bulb go off on the young woman’s, the angry man’s, and the super’s heads all at the same time. We all looked at each other in silence. The super promptly ran to the side building and took that idea being the one to crawl through the garbage bins to the streets and getting back into the main building to open the door.
After a short 46 minutes total, everyone was able to get through the door to the main building and the super was able to get back up to my apartment door, letting himself in.
He pulls out his tool kit to reattach the knob to inside, but realizes something is wrong. “I have to run to hardware store. It’ll only take a few minutes!” before I can open my mouth the let out a word, he takes off down the stairs with my keys again. I just tossed my hands in the air without care.
Another 16 minutes, he comes running up the stairs again, grin on his face, and new brass door handle in hand. He returns my keys, replaces the lock and handle, and is on his way. I thank him.
Once I arrived at the store I intended to go to earlier, I realized 2 seconds too late that there’s a closed sign on the door. Thinking back on it from my third person perspective now, I am sure I freaked out the workers inside—cleaning up with the lights off seeing a woman in the window, standing perfectly still, staring in defeat, directly at them.
Fiasco 3:
I’ve been having this recurring dream—or more like a nightmare—of running into my ex in public. It’s a different place every time, but same situation. I’m by myself in a crowded place, either on a cruise ship, in a building, or at a fair of sorts. I see him, he sees me, and he’s standing next to a new girlfriend. I always look at her but either her face is missing or her head is turned. But she never sees me. I take off and try to run away, hurry out as fast as I can, pushing through people looking for an exit or place to hide. But he always comes after me.
Last night in this scenario I was pushing through a crowd of people in some huge, indoor convention.
When he got to me, he had three toddlers in a multi-seated stroller with him. I asked if they were his children, which he replied, no- they’re his girlfriend’s kids. I always end the conversation abruptly finding it so hard to look at him. I feel sick. It’s so vivid and he looks so real. He always looks so tired and sad. His eyes always trying to say something, but I don’t hear it or understand. I don’t want to either. I don’t want anything to do with him. I am always the one telepathically begging him to be gone, away from me, forever.
As someone who has had premonition dreams in the past, this one is starting to stand out. I was fearing that maybe I would run into him in real life soon and this was a warning. I pray and pray that it won’t actually happen.
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Yesterday I went on a long walk on that pre-spring teaser of a day. At the park, I found myself walking up behind a man who looked familiar, but couldn’t put my finger on it. He slowly turned around and looking at his face, it was one of my exes—but thankfully not the one from the dream. I’ve never actually watched Sex and the City, but I have seen this clip where Carrie sees one of her ex’s on the street and he turns around and has a baby strapped to his chest—it was exactly like that scene.
Baby strapped to his chest and all, smiling at me, approaching. He removed his sunglasses and greeted me. I felt shocked to see him like this. In fact, it was jarring. I mean it shouldn't be, he’s 36 now. A woman appeared in view, I assume his new girlfriend (but am not sure). He explained to me it was not his son, but his nephew whom he was watching for the day.
I don’t know what it was, because I was the one to end things, but I was completely tongue tied and making a fool of myself. Face red, wondering if our knowing of each other would come up in front of the woman. I wasn’t prepared to run into an ex in a city of 8 million people despite having dreams warning me of a similar scenario, okay???
But really, all I could think was, were the dreams foreshadowing this? I don’t think I could handle running into more than one ex in a short period of time... so, please... let it be it. Because chill, laid back ex who I didn’t even recognize at first is something I can handle. Running into the man who gave me two heart attacks, I can’t. In the end of this brief encounter, I ended our awkward convo quick— lying—saying I had to be somewhere.
That is all for this week. Until next time, on the Sadie Show.