In Memory of Germanwings Flight 9525

Maria’s Dream of March 24, 2015

Still running in my dream, I become fully myself, and lucid, when I almost literally run into a man, who I seem to recognize as my brother, walking quickly in the opposite direction on a busy pedestrian thoroughfare. He sees me,  we stop to greet each other, and then begin walking in the same direction as I ask urgently, “This is the way home, right?” He agrees it is, confirming my certainty as I gaze with desperate longing over low rooftops, and across the street behind them, where I can just make out the spire of what looks and feels like a Cathedral. The thoroughfare we’re walking on is packed  with people, but it doesn’t feel like a festival day, on the contrary; it is more like a desperate, frightened exodus. The city around us looks oddly timeless, and there is almost a Medieval feel to the low black rooftops. There’s no way to tell where we are exactly, or even what century we’re in, as though the historical time line has transformed into a river in the form of all the people flooding this place.

My brother and I are doing our best to move forward in the throng, toward the general direction of the distant Cathedral, when we suddenly come upon a man I seem to recognize as our father. He emerges from the crowd, as if he was waiting for us, holding a little boy in his arms. Then a woman I feel is my grandmother appears, looking as though she had to make a serious effort to catch up with us. She joins our  group, walking behind what looks like a solidly built wooden cart the rest of us are riding in. Gazing up at me, she murmurs a question to my father, to which I reply, “It’s Maria” quite surprised she doesn’t seem to  recognize me.

We’re moving along at a snail’s pace, because there are just too many people crowded together. Suddenly, a lone man wearing dark clothes hurries past us, running in the opposite direction, but I know it’s hopeless, and that he will have to turn around and come with the rest of us. Soon, I can’t take it anymore, and say, “Let’s fly! We can fly! This is a dream! We can fly!” and I use my willpower to lift our cart up into the air above the heads of the people. That’s as high as I can manage to get us.  “At least we’re flying” I remark as we cruise through the air, moving at a much swifter pace than before. But the Cathedral that marks the way home is still far away. Urging my family to try flying,  I literally flap one arm like a wing, and we begin ascending.

Whenever I fly in a dream, I actually don’t flap my arms, but tonight it feels necessary, so I begin jacking my arm up and down as though leveraging us up. We are now floating in empty air, but then I realize we are nearing the ceiling of a large structure, and that we are no longer outside. The walls are whitewashed, with solid black wooden beams near the ceiling, and people are sitting at tables below us, apparently dining. This place is definitely old, European, maybe German or Swiss.

“This happens in dreams a lot,” I inform these people who feel like part of my family. I am referring to the ceiling/barrier, in which I fully intend to make a hole through which we can fly away. Then I see an opening in the wall just beneath one corner of the ceiling, a rectangular, glass-free window. “We can go through there!” I declare, and mentally direct our cart toward it, carefully aligning it so we can pass through the tight opening. I do my best navigating, concerned about dislodging my father and grandmother, who are in the back of the cart. But we all make it through, and are moving really fast now. I am no longer directing the cart, which seems to have caught some mysterious dream roller coaster which swoops us down, and then up and around through a silver-framed doorway. Simply along for the ride now, I’m busy securing my father by pulling him onto my lap, where he sits with his back to my chest, my arms cradling him protectively, for he is no bigger than a baby now. It makes me happy to hold him, even as I feel sad that I never had a child of my own. I wake.


I became lucid last night when I found myself in a crowd of people all gathered close together, and heading in the same direction, toward what felt like home, somewhere beyond the spire of a Cathedral I distinctly saw rising above the other buildings. I was caught in a press of bodies passing through a quaint little town, high on a mountain top, which felt either Swiss or German to me. It was all extremely chaotic, and I felt the need to flap my arms like wings in an effort to fly, to rise higher and higher into the sky.

 Approximately four hours after I woke up,  I found out about the Germanwings Airbus that crashed in the French Alps and suddenly my dream made complete sense. According to the preliminary news report, no survivors were expected, and the plane had disintegrated, with the largest section of it being about the size of a car. This detail immediately made me think of the “cart” I was in with my family. This was my last dream of the night, from which I woke at around 6:40 EST. Because our Daylight Savings Time started early, France is five hours ahead of us, so 6:40 here would have been 11:40 there, which is shortly after the crash.

In the dream, I was trying to get us all home, “us” taking the form of some of my family members. In Truth, our souls are all one family in God, so I think what happened is that my self projected familiar beloved faces onto the people I was intent on helping in my dream. It seems significant now that the woman I perceived as my grandmother asked the man, who I perceived as my father, what my name was, which was strange, because always when I dream of her, we know each other, and are happy to be together. Even when I told her, “It’s Maria” she didn’t show any sign of recognizing me, but she accepted my help.

My feeling that I needed to fly, to flap my arms and go up and up, reflects how the passengers on the plane might have felt in the final moments as it plunged toward the ground. I also experienced, at the end of my dream, plunging down, then up, then down again.

Toward the beginning of my dream, I distinctly saw one man running in the opposite direction, past all the other people. The captain who tried desperately to get into the terrorist proofed cockpit? He was the only non-passive figure in my dream.

I felt sick when I read a news report with photographs from the town near where the plane went down, Montabaur. Behind the reporter was a big house with white walls, a black roof, and  windows high up in one wall – exactly the structure I saw in my dream. The same texture to the walls, and the roof as well. I had felt I was somewhere in Europe, the Swiss Alps perhaps, and that there were many German people around.

Igor’s Dreams:

In one of my dreams last night, somebody got my attention, and told me what was going on in my dream was not that important, because something had happened. I asked, “What do you mean?” and she replied, “Germany.” I was confused, and asked, “Germany?” This dream faded away.

I have a memory, and don’t know if it’s from before, or if I dreamed it last night. I know I remember it, but I don’t know where and when it’s from…  I thought it could be a dream after we talked about the plane crash, but I don’t recall having it last night. I’ve been thinking about it all day:

I’m sitting in a plane, next to the window, I am male (not myself) and there is a woman sitting next to me. We both realize the plane will crash now, and there is so much fear in her. I take her hand, and tell her, “You know this will happen. Nothing can be done. I love you. Take my hand, and be there with me.” I feel like the plane is going down. Everything goes black for a moment, then I see a splash of blue-white water, a perfectly circular splash. It looks like waves are radiating outward from us in a circle, one wave after another, and it also looks like this water is boiling. The waves are radiating in all directions in a perfect circle. It is incredibly beautiful.

Igor! I’m so happy you keep remembering this dream-vision, and that you shared it with us. I feel comforted just thinking of it.

“… those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.” John 4:14

Your dream made me think of Christ’s words, as if the beautiful water you saw was an expression of all those souls on the plane experiencing this at the same time within the perfect (circular) embrace of the One.

Maria, at the time I was thinking to help them, because I remembered you tried to help them in your dream, but when I saw that splash at the end, I was mesmerized by its beauty.

Igor, it’s fascinating what the woman told you about your first dream not being that important because of what had just happened, and then you receiving the information of “Germany.” I also had a strong impression of Germany. What this is telling us is that we are all connected; we are all one family on the level of the soul, and how sensitive a dreamer is to such events, has a lot to do with how much they, as a person, believe this to be true, and feel empathy for others.

Maria, we seem to pick up on major events that  are broadcast worldwide. So you and Igor picked up on the plane crash, and then afterward it became a big news story. The reason why I mention this is because, sadly, there are lots of bad things happening in the world, in non western countries terrible things occur everyday that we are not aware of. So perhaps there is something else at play here? Perhaps because it effects us directly we are more inclined to ‘pick it up’? So interesting that you both picked up on Germany, since that was the location the plane was heading. I think the more open you are, the more likely you are to pick up on these things. I had some bad dreams last night, but I don’t recall all of them.

It is somehow comforting to think that, when we do pass, there may be dreamers out there, reassuring and helping us 🙂

Mario Pita:
While we don’t know what role might be played by psychopomps traveling in dreams, we do know that dreams can strongly affect the way we see events, so, for example, if I saw this event covered in the news, I would only see the tragedy and the terror, because that is all that reporters can say and show. But a dream reporter can show such an event from a spiritual angle, beyond the visible, a reassuring reminder for us, the living, if not a guide for those who have died. Maria, this seems to be another of a number of instances in which you have experienced in a dream the deaths of others, and as with those other dreams, it feels very reassuring; they were going safely home, to a church, implying the existence of God.

I don’t know if you’ve all heard yet, but the evidence indicates the co-pilot deliberately crashed the plane, which means all these people were murdered. Horrible! The captain went to the bathroom, and the co-pilot wouldn’t let him back into the cockpit. The audio recorder indicates the co-pilot was breathing until the end, he was not unconscious. And the black box shows he pressed the “descend” button and just let the plane crash. This is just how I feel:

“…It’s no wonder that so many people have a weak connection to a faith that says God had to die on the Cross… to save us; because we can’t seem to acknowledge the depth of evil, even when, as in the plane crash, it passes graphically before our eyes. Not for us Augustine and the mysterium iniquitatis (“the mystery of evil”), which accounts for a lot more without setting out on the hopeless errand of trying to explain, to turn what is by nature a mystery into some problem that can be remedied by better pilot screening, different flight procedures, or more funding for psychological research.

It would be hard to say whether this fear of recognizing the mystery of evil is a particularly modern aberration or whether it’s always been with us, to a greater or lesser degree. We’d like to believe that human wickedness can be reduced to something like physics – suicidal depression or pathological massacre as a kind of human biochemical or intra-psychic tsunami – that therefore might be managed.

With all due respect to the psychologists, many of whom do real good, at a certain point, this turns into something about as scientific as astrology… It’s hard to face the fact that malice walks among us, a malice that we cannot explain away…”

Robert Royal, except from his article: Mysterium Iniquitatis

Good article, Maria.  Evil seems rampant in the world today, in part because people rationalise it way.  Some things can’t be explained, or explained away. Happy to try to dream for the crash victims, lucid or not.

Yeah Maria, that is a sad, but wholey realistic way of viewing things. I tend to keep my head in the clouds and focus on good stuff, which doesn’t help to make the world any better, although I beleive I’m moving through preferred realities, finding the good one, where less evil resides. I know you’ve come across evil things in your dreams before.

Mario Pita:
Sean, I think keeping your head in the clouds and focusing on good stuff helps the world too. The world needs people dreaming of ‘preferred realities’ as part of moving toward them.

Yes, and when evil seeks to infiltrate and destroy the more loving reality we are striving to create with our waking and sleeping dreams, then we fight it. No need to go after it, it will come to us, like bugs to a bright light at night.

Thanks, Mario, that gives me a good enough excuse to keep focusing on the good stuff 🙂

Public Comments