Dreams are Mirrors into our Souls: Round Three

It was Dark. Most of the time it was just Dark. I remember being with a big group. Family? It wasn't my family, yet I knew these people very well. I was happy; I was younger. It was bright. And my Dad was there. My Dad was there? I'd had this awed vacation dream before. It was always in the same place. Always sunny. And always tropical. I remember hearing noises in the sky. And I remember Nick was there. He kept throwing things in the air. Model Airplanes? Up, Down. Up, Down. Up, Down . . . Then it happened: the sky turned very dark. And the Midnight Sun appeared. Or?? More rather, never disappeared. An aircraft circled ahead in the distance. Something was wrong. We stopped to watch it. And then it exploded. It was loud and I was very scared. The sky was on fire. People started screaming. And running. And running and screaming. But I wanted to save it; I wanted to hold it. I wanted to be close to it. I remember fascinating myself with the explosion, so it be not curtailed of love. When I got closer to the crash, the sky started falling. It was raining. It was ashing. And all I could think of was Nick. Did he know this would happen? Were his Model Airplanes predictions? Where was he now? I wanted to save him, to hold him. I just wanted to be close to him. Does this always have to happen? Up, Down.