Corsair F4 and Ghost

Was flying a great big aircraft, landing in an airfield in the
dream metropolis (distant from my home like SF to SD) and taxiing under
the freeway to the fueling area. When I hopped out I was pleased to see
the navy blue, stars on the wings, Corsair.
I remember thinking I was lucky to have found it in such good
condition. It still had its guns, and even a half dozen rounds in the
.50 cals. I didn't intend to fire them off, who knows how old and in
what condition they were. I was just refueling until I could fly the
rest of the way home.
While I was in the snack shack the old war bird had gathered
quite a crowd. We chatted a while and I told them about the trip down.
In dream flashback of throttling it up and feeling the torque try to
roll the whole plane to the right. When the fueling was done I climbed
in and dropped the wings for everyone. They waved me off and some
followed along as I made my way out to the runway. I noticed on the
freeway overpass that there were even a couple of folks stopped to watch
as I rolled out to the run-up area and throttled it up. Everything was
good and I rolled out off the runway, not even taking a third of the
length to get airborne. I was up and out, looking back I could see about
a dozen folks waving as I pulled around the airfield and climbed out and
on my way. I waggled my wings as I flew past them.
It was quite the view out the cockpit and through the gun site.
When I got out over the desert I made a couple of dry runs on some
abandoned barns, just to put the plane through its paces. What a kick.
Rolling in at 100 feet off the ground at 300 knots. Nothing like it. I
wasn't even at full throttle (I wanted to have enough fuel to make it
home.) I did try some rolls when I had climbed out of my "attack" runs
and was headed home.

Later, events found me with a nun in an old run down apartment
in the city. There was a ghost that appeared. I shifted into the ghost.
The nun was still there. I touched her, we were shifted back in
time, she was young, topless. Long dark hair cascading in waves that
were pulled around in front. Her back was to me with her shoulders under
my fingers. The freckles were so thick from the sun it looked like she
had light speckles on darker skin rather than the other way around.
Shifted again. We were in an open roadster, parked in traffic.
Suddenly brass shell casings began to fall all around like rain. The
skyscrapers around us were wreathed with breaking glass at about the
18th floor or so. The shooting seemed to come from a nearby building.
The police arrived as I pulled the woman who would become the nun from
the car. "They're up on that roof," I shouted out.
The police began emptying their Tommy guns up at the roof line
while others broke into the building. Suddenly the brass was joined by
the cracking of bullets striking the cars and pavement. I threw myself
over the woman and felt hammering and ripping along my back and legs.
She was screaming in my ear. I knew she would be unharmed.
Shifting again, I was back in the apartment. The Nun was hunched
over at the small dusty table. I checked her, back in my original self.
She was dead. I held her hand a moment and called the local paramedics.

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