Mission Spaceship Bereavement

It's days like today that make me really glad I now record my dreams. You see, last night I had what was probably the most deep, meaningful, and moving dreams of my life. Indeed, last night I actually thought I was part of a science fiction film. However, the problem I face with dreams like these is that, since they're so meaty, I have trouble remembering the beginning of them (which is often very integral to the story), and instead seem to just catch the end, like tuning in a few minutes before the final scenes of a really good movie. However, I try my best to rack my brain and force myself to remember as much as I can. Here's my attempt for last night:

As my dream opened, I was travelling a run-down, broken, nearly isolated highway. I had to carefully manoeuvre my vehicle, as there were huge drop-outs and missing sections of the road. This is all I remember of the very first scenes of my dream, and the next thing I knew, I was transported to the exposition of a compelling story.

My family had taken the place of another in the interstellar missionary spaceship pilot field. My father was the family spaceship pilot, and he had duties that included going to rescue people when emergencies were reported, as well as maintaining the ship to ensure it was serviceable. He had to go out on several missions a week, leaving me and my family at the missionary cabin we had been given for the duration of our involvement in the project.

I remember remarking to my mother one day about how much the kitchen in our cabin looked like the one back home, and she agreed. Indeed, it was a near replica of the kitchen in my real-world house today. I'm sure this has no effect on the story, but I dreamed it, so it belongs here.

One day, when I was walking around the premises of our house, I came upon an old man sitting in a pool of water beside a cliff. In front of him, a vast pile of logs were ever so slowly being pulled by the water over the cliff. With such a huge mass, though, they got all bunched up and were not moving too readily. I greeted the old man, and he beckoned me to him. When I got closer, he told me to try to get as close to the edge of the cliff as possible, so I could look down at all the logs tumbling down the waterfall into the depths below. I declined, worrying for my safety, but the man kept insisting. To keep him quiet, I acquiesced to some degree. I peeked over the edge, teetering on an especially unstable and slimy log. After I had risked my life to the degree deemed necessary, I pulled back from the precipice, told the man goodbye, and continued on my way.

It really, really bothers me that this next part is basically forgotten, mainly because I know it was so significant and emotional that it formed the meat of my story. All I can remember is that there was a substantial, tense mission rescue that I was part of, and I think it was involving a girl. Something happened to me during that flight, and it colored and changed my perception of the rest of the story. If it ever comes back to me, I will edit this post and re-write this section, completing the story. For now, however, read on, knowing that, within my dream, I had a deep sadness in my heart as a result of what happened here.

I was now back at my house, and my parents were having somewhat of an argument about the state of the mission project. It seems that my father was having some trouble keeping up to pace with the demanding schedule, and the previous pilot was having to fill in for him. The other pilot came back then, and joined our discussion. He explained to my father that he understood that it was difficult adapting to the pace of the project, and that he was only able to fully grasp it after two years of service. I remember looking out the window across our property, to where the mission ship sat on a small hill. It was somewhat bulbous, having a greenish-blueish-whitish color scheme. It had stubby wings, and a rounded fuselage.

Time skipped ahead, and I was an adult, watching a group of people that were working hard, bent over a wooden counter. They were laboring intensely, driven on by an excited young man. I remember him saying that they were preliminary workers for a film, constructing props, costumes, and other set pieces. I remember thinking to myself what an awful occupation this must be. Out of the workers, two in particular caught my eye: a teenage boy and girl. They were competing with each other, seeing who could complete which tasks first. As I watched the mayhem unfold, the leader shouted out a command, and the workers switched places, beginning on new tasks. I walked forward and was immediately drafted for duty. I was given a metal tray with moist beanbags on it, and was told to begin work. I cluelessly looked to my left for inspiration. The boy worker was busy as can be. I could see that he and the woman across from him were making great progress on their beanbags. I could also see that across from me was a kitchen suspiciously like the one in my childhood mission home. I then realized that our current task was shaping the beanbags into kitchen cabinets. Naturally, I thought this was impossible, but I could see the others making great strides at their projects, so I decided to start buckling down. I kneaded the beanbags, and the more I pushed them around, the wetter and more pliable they became. Then, the leader shouted at me that I was supposed to weld my metal tray to the table before getting to work. I tried to, and thought I succeeded, but my weld points just came undone. Not wanting to keep trying, I went back to my beanbag kneading.

Just then, I heard a shout behind me. I turned and saw my surroundings for the first time. We were in a fenced clearing, with low buildings all around. A small number of people ringed the clearing, and were all peering expectantly at the overcast sky. Then, a large booming, cracking, sizzling noise broke out, and I saw a gleaming white spaceship break through the clouds and come streaking to the ground. It altered its trajectory drastically as it came closer, and flashed across the field in front of me. Then, a speeding white car drove the opposite way, nearly getting blown to smithereens by the sheer momentum of the spaceship. Several people yelled in annoyance at the driver of the car, saying how he could have been killed. However, they soon disregarded him, turning to the ship. It majestically looped around the yard and came to rest behind the building across from me, and the people broke out in cheering.

Then something moved within me, and I began to sob. This spaceship had served as a reminder to me of all my years at the missionary project. I remembered people that my father had interacted with, those he had saved, and some he had lost. My sobs grew, and I wept uncontrollably, burdened by the weight of the losses we had failed to prevent. I cried so hard that I was unable to stay standing, and I collapsed. Several people loaded me up on a cart and started to wheel me away. Then, the teenage worker girl took over, and wheeled me over to a stream surrounded by lush foliage. She whispered soft words to me, explaining that she was tasked with comforting and protecting me. As I got myself under control, she told me that I was fully spent, and was going to die. As I feebly protested, she stopped me and described her solution. She volunteered to die in my place, and had already resigned herself to do so. I watched aghast as she got in the cart, leaning back with her eyes closed, and died. I was completely shocked and confused, spitting at the water of the stream in my frustration.

I awoke.

I know that this was probably a very tedious, arduous read. But this morning I felt very somber as I shrugged the remnants of this dream away. It probably sounds very trivial, but I can remember more than anything the emotions caused by this story, and how they affected my heart during and after my dream. I was unable to fully describe how I felt. The recounting here is confusing and seems inconsequential. It probably leaves much to be desired, but IT'm going to be thinking about this dream for a long time to come.