Airplanes and Model Airplanes

It is an odd day to reflect on these dreams that I had, in fact, two nights ago. It was also not until I wrote the title just that I realized that both of the dreams involved airplanes.
The first dream was particularly odd because it was a dream that began in the third-person omniscient, and I was not present in it. I was in the air, observing a large-ish family with two sons and a daughter (I believe) - both parents were there as well. The main issue of the dream was that it was war-time (I don't know when) and the boys were 21 and 18, and they were both drafted into the air force. Seemingly sped-up, I watched a day of departure preparation: suitcases strewn with clothes on their twin beds, a tearful family meal, the father trying to calm down the mother, who was hysterical at having two of her children leave to fight in a war that she didn't support.
Then there was a montage...and then began the actual war itself - I was suddenly behind the eyes of the older boy, in the cock-pit of some sort of fighter plane. The air was rent with the noise of metal tearing, guns shooting, and people hurting. The green grass below us swarmed with infantry, but there was no escape in the air either. It was hard to distinguish enemy planes from our own, because they all streaked beneath me and to my right and left in such a blur that the symbols inscribed in the metal were indistinct - after giving up the pursuit of the enemy, I tried to find my brother. I called him in my radio, and after a few moments of terrible static I heard his voice. He said that he was doing fine, and that there was not much action at his part of the field. He gave me his position, and then I adjusted my flight coordinates so as to maneuver the plane in his direction. However, as I caught sight of his plane in the distance, over a barren, gray sort of meadow, a plane that was on fire streaked past below me, headed straight for his plane, which was facing the other direction. Before I could press the button on the radio to warn him, the two planes had collided in a fiery explosion, slowly descending to the ground like bloody, ashy fireworks. I let go of the controls in shock. My brother was dead.
The rest of this dream involved my return home and the family grief.
The next dream was of a different mood entirely. I was me, and my mom was driving merrily along the highway with me in the front seat next to her. We were on the way to visit one of her friends, whom she had met at work. She also took care to mention that her friend had a son who was supposed to be handsome.
"So you're trying to set me up with your friend's son, is that it?" I asked her incredulously.
She shrugged and grinned, "We'll see what happens."
Well, when we got there, I realized that it would have been good to inquire about his age. He was standing out front with his mother, and he informed me upon our handshake that he was in the seventh grade. My mom and his mom exchanged the sidelong glance of mothers plotting something together before his mom said, "Well, you kids have fun...Kathy and I will just be out on the terrace." And so my mom left me alone with this boy.
He really was a beautiful boy, just not like someone I wanted to date. Though he was in the seventh grade, he looked no older than seven, with softly-tanned skin and a shock of light blonde hair. His voice was also uncharacteristically young sounding for a seventh grader: he could have been a boy soprano.
"Let me show you my airplanes." he said eagerly, his eyes bright.
"Okay," I said, sort of mystified. I followed him to his room, which was painted army-green. The frame on which his twin bed rested was shaped like a dinosaur, and he had a blue, wooden shelf where he had at least ten model airplanes. Through a window in the far wall, we could see a large table on the terrace where our mothers laughed together and drank coffee.
He grabbed his first airplane and began to describe it - this took about five minutes, and so when he turned around to take the second one, I sat on his bed, expecting the whole ordeal to last a while. When he turned back around, he lowered his head and shuffled his feet, looking very awkward, as though I had just undressed myself or something.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Well, nothing, only...my mommy doesn't want any girls sitting on my bed when she isn't here."
I chanced a look out of the window and noticed that his mother was watching us out of the corner of her eye. Disgusted that she would expect me to make an advance on her little angel boy, I stood up and said, "Well, we surely wouldn't want her to worry, would we?"
I sat on the floor while he showed me the rest of the airplanes.
After this exhibition, we joined the adults outside, or rather, I sat across from my mother while the boy ran happily around the backyard (which was like a large meadow) holding out one of his airplanes. When his mother got up to get a refill of coffee, I started to scold my mom for trying to set me up with such a young boy. Before the argument was complete, I woke up.