I realized I was probably getting low on fuel, but I wasn't sure if I should hit an airport or a toy-store. I opted for the latter (since it was on the way to the airport), and buzzed down onto the southwest side of my dream Denver (which more resembles the casino city in Final Fantasy. The one you can race Chocobos in, and you pick up Cait Sidhe in?). Landing by this very big toy-store, I was fixed up by the clerk who seemed rather familiar at first, although I couldn't place where I knew him from. He filled up the tank with about a quart of some thick viscous fluid (guess that was gas?), and then I realized that he was some sort've Charley McCarthy doll brought to Promethian/Pinocchio life (which is why he seemed familiar).
No moral to the dream-snippet, just an odd big of flight.
In other news, the mystery lower-chest/upper-abdominal pain returned on the night between Sunday and Monday! Didn't get as bad as it has before, which is annoying. If a mystery pain shows up out of no-where, having not shown up for at least six months beforehand, you'd really think it'd be worse than before. I've now taken to recording the details in locked entries, so I can get more of an idea of how often they happen and the symptoms surrounding them (although that sounds like I have a decent record of them, when it's just this one).