Occasionally. The last one I remember, still quite vividly, involved me and my wife in a plane that quite suddenly started going down in exactly the sort of way you’d expect if you lost a wing or vertical stabilizer or something. Sharp nose down, falling suddenly; we were even weightless. I woke up rather suddenly, so I’m not sure what would have happened when we actually hit the ground, but it was disconcerting. It didn’t help that we were getting on a plane the next day to fly from London to Reykjavic.
(Two days later, in Reykjavic, the day before we were due to fly to Boston, I had another plane crash dream. This one I wasn’t on the plane; I was at the airport.)