Plane crash and art recovery

Date: 1/14/2018

I was on a plane from Toronto to Ottawa (I think?) that some king had also put all of his fancy artwork on to ship it to somewhere. Suddenly, the plane started losing altitude slowly and we were flying really low about a highway and some forest and lakes trying to find some place to land. The descent was slow and controlled, and eventually we were brought down in a lake next to the road. Everyone got out of the plane, and I (except I wasn’t me anymore, I was a slightly older lady, a whole different person) was standing with my friend, who was youngish (like 28) and had reddish hair. She suddenly started talking about “so what are they going to do with all the artwork on board”. She had a weird gleam in her eye and people were looking at her strangely. I suddenly remembered a comment the pilot had made about how the crash felt unnatural. I started hushing my friend, telling her to be quiet, and not act so suspicious, and just be grateful no one was hurt. We were still standing on the rocks next to the lake looking at the paintings on board when the plane finally sank deep into the water. We went to some hotel I guess and were just waiting there? Details are foggy. She kept on talking about the paintings- particularly one called the Siren speaks. She also spoken about one called horses by Hippo, which was a blue line painting of two muscular, well defined horses will big heads surging basically while a strong peasant hat wearing man tried to restrain them. The siren speaks painting was of a red haired girl on some rocks, looking straight ahead at the viewer. My friend kept talking about the inhumanity of letting this art sink to the bottom of the lake when t would be easy to recover it, and i kept trying to keep the peace with her but discourage her from trying to steal it and making it look like she had engineered the crash. We had wandered into a Japanese section of the place we were- I now think it was actually a museum or some kind of art conference center- and I agreed with her ongoing train of argument that art should be displayed, and not let to be lost to the war. “Look,” I said, “Japanese art is meant to be worn” gesturing to the beautiful kimonos around us. My friend agreed. We walked on to a large flat glass or dark stone fountain with water slowly draining evenly over the sides. We didn’t say anything, but my friend suddenly grabbed a robe and put it on, and jumped onto the table. She started doing what i called Tae Kwan Do in the dream, but maybe it was more like Tae Chi- slow beautiful movements, like dancing, which caused water to fly up around her. It was super beautiful, and I joined in. Afterwards, an older woman came in and put a blanket on my friend, so she wouldn’t freeze, she said. My friend accepted the blanket and then suddenly shot out of the room, running full tilt towards the lake with her blanket still wrapped around her. She dove into the water and began swimming down. I followed her and jumped in to the cold, dark brown water as well. Here our characters changed a little? Suddenly it was Flounder the fish following a Ariel, and groups of little fish kept coming to be like “hello, hello, welcome back” while he was trying to race down to stop her. Eventually he got to a close distance and just looked on as she began to cut the protective cardboard off the painting. Here my perspective switched from watching Flounder to being the woman unwrapping the painting, deep underwater (also i could still see). As I cut and pulled off pieces of cardboard to reveal the portrait of the young woman beneath, I worried about fish eating the glue of the frame. I unwrapped the painting entirely from its protective wrapping, and as I began savagely cutting it out of its frame my thoughts shifted to “don’t let it freeze don’t let it freeze don’t let it freeze” in a crazed way. I freed the painting from its frame and swam to the top with it. I dragged myself into the rocks at the shore and lay the hard canvas, cut ragged along the edges, next to me and the dream entered into a flashback. In a voice over, I explained that while my friend came from river money (?) i came from more than that. I was wandering around my house, where I lived with my rich, old husband who had a bunch f business men over with him. There was a couple of pools and jacuzzis, some gyms, some masseuses, etc, and the house was a brilliant white and felt tropical. My husband’s friends were looking at me, which I felt sort of uncomfortable about but knew it was the trade off for this life. One of the men pulled me aside and said “have you ever heard when a plane crashes they don’t retrieve the contents? The seven newest and greatest ideas all went down over water and were lost” and the idea for this crash was born. The dream ended naturally here.