I had a dream this morning, likely a few minutes before the alarm was to activate at 6AM.  I dreamed of walking in an open field with acquaintances,

possibly family.  At some distance, a mile or so in the sky a big military tanker plane was making a slow turn.  I’ve see such aircraft before and am always fascinated by the size and the ballet-like movement of the big jets.  Then, almost out of sight the big plane turns and comes lumbering directly toward us.  Then with nose up it banks upward into a giant loop,— a most unnatural maneuver for such a big plane, one such as a smaller fighter might make.  A large quantity of red liquid disgorges from it’s belly, falling directly toward us in fist-sized globules.  There was nowhere to run, no place to hide. The last thing I remember of the dream before waking, was thinking, in my dream, that anyone struck by the liquid would die a very painful death.

It was a dream, just a dream.

I remember being told a long time ago that dreams are about the dreamer, about our hopes and fears.  If that is true, the dream speaks to the preeminence of fate, luck, chance in the course of the one life that we are given.  A sunny day, with friends, in an expansive field, viewing with interest the maneuver of a large military plane in the distance.  What are the odds, that the pilot will be ordered at that moment, to turn the plane, to make a pass, lined up directly on the area where I am standing, with those that I care for?  Could the pass have been 5 or 10 degrees to the right or left?  Of course.  That would be the difference between life and death.

Does it matter?  Yes it does.  Everything matters.

The proper nonessence of truth is the mystery.

—excerpt On The Essence of Truth

by Martin Heigger, p. 130