In anxious times, I often have dreams that I am trying to do my job as a photojournalist, but can’t, for whatever reason, accomplish my objective. Last night I dreamed that a Southwest 737, a nice new 700-series, was trying to land in our garage.
The approach was high, so the pilot tried to go around, but did so too late and his landing gear clipped our roof. Our house wasn’t damaged (since for a few seconds the aircraft was miniature), but the jet careened into the pasture by our pond and burst into flames. Aghast, I rushed inside to get my cameras, but when I got inside I found myself unable to find the right cameras, then unable to find the right lenses, then unable to get the lenses to mount on my cameras.
By this point in the dream I feel certain that emergency personnel and other photojournalists would arrive on the scene and get pictures that I won’t, despite the fact that the crash occurring literally in my own back yard.