Saturday, April 14, 2007
Flying in Dreams
I had a flying dream the other night. I like them. They don't happen that often, but I always wake up content, refreshed and and happy with an added touch of a feeling of accomplishment. Don't ask me why.
Every time I have this dream, it's different; like a variation or continuing story with a new chapter. It must mean something. I have no clue what, though.
The first flying dreams began when I was a child. I could gingerly levitate but only if I didn't think about it. I would drift upward nearly holding my breath while I controled my mind to NOT think of flying or, I was convinced, I would surely fall. At that time, all flying occurred in the dreams as if it were night. I would lightly land at the windows of domed buildings or drift by skyscrapers enjoying the view and no one saw me.
Later in life, I would fly like an underwater swimmer, making the effort to move through the air, but lightly. Still, no people were involved, although I was 'swimming' over them silently, they couldn't see me, but I could see them. This was like a big secret I was enjoying. Sometimes the trees would toss in the wind and I would have to be careful about altitude. I might have to fight to keep from being swept upward and away.
When I learned to scuba, being underwater was like a flying dream. Traveling over coral was like coasting over landscapes. It gave me the same feeling of exhilaration and peace and a dizzy perspective of very high altitude and great distances if I let my imagination kick in.
And now my flying dreams include towns that look like European villages, ancient forests, people who see me and are friendly. Many times, I go back to the same place and the story continues. In last dream, I was talking to people and we were joking and laughing. And for the first time, I was conscious of a costume with light yellow wings that were attached to my arms from wrist to underarm and continued down each side to the waist. Midsummer Night's Dream comes to mind.