So I traveled to Australia last night. It was a long flight; I had expected that. I’ve flown that route once before. I met the man of my dreams on the plane. His name was Ewan. Ewan McGregor. He was Australian. Interesting, I thought. Wasn’t there an actor by the same name? He was no relation, this Ewan said. And he did look completely different as well. He was returning home to Australia to see his folks. We talked the entire flight, laughing, getting to know each other. Near the end of the flight he confessed his desire to spend the rest of his life with me, (which I found odd), but delighted in. We looked out the small windows as the plane descended into an old World War II relic landing strip, complete with battle-worn flight machines. As we made our way off the plane, my friends Saz and her husband Simon were there to greet us. Then it started snowing. And as we were making our way to where the vehicles were parked, Ewan and I were separated in the crowd. I kept looking for him, but couldn’t find him. I kept thinking how wrong this was that we’d only just found each other, and then we were suddenly torn apart. Hours we looked for him. And couldn’t find him. And just when we were about to give up, he came trudging through the snow, worn out from what he’d just gone through.
Alas. It was but a dream. Very dramatic and detailed one at that. I haven’t seen the movie Australia for months, so I don’t know where the plot thing or location came from. And Saz, I’m sorry, but for some reason you and Si lived in Australia. I know that’s not a compliment by any means. ;o) But I can’t help what I dream.