As I went walking a few days back, the day felt unseasonably autumn-ish for mid-February. It was overcast and very breezy, dry leaves skittering past, weightless as air. It felt like a day where if you spread your arms just right and shut your eyes, the wind would lift you as gently as a leaf and carry you off to adventures beyond imagining
(Was I spreading my arms then and hoping for the best? However did you guess?)
I’ve had many dreams of flying since I was young. What always strikes me most about them as just how easy and effortless it was after I wake up. There’s something about subconscious flight that makes it feel like a skill I already possess—but it’s either forgotten or not fully developed yet.
For each dream I had, my mind created a new mythology for why I’d forgotten (or never learned) to fly—but when I actually do, its utterly organic and natural. Like its dormant now, but if I could just put my finger on that switch in my genetics, I float as buoyant and as easy as if I’ve always done it—gravity be damned. I don’t even need ‘early flight training’. And I’m always shocked to awaken and find myself tethered to the ground again, like it were only a dream or something.
Interestingly, though I love to swim and that buoyancy in water is similar to what I experience in dream-flight, I don’t seem to get underwater dreams. You’d think that I would, just to hang out with Arial and the Mer-folks and have marvelous adventures deep in the ocean, but nope. It’s all air and blue skies for my subconscious apparently.
The other thing that I find funny about this is that, in real life, I have a mild fear of heights and acute motion sickness. My one zip-lining experience I don’t recall much of past the screaming, and I can’t handle motion sensor rides. I can’t even watch movies at the Imax without vomiting and feeling sick for hours.
Yet, none of that comes into play with my dream flights. In reality, wouldn’t the air twirl me around until I couldn’t tell left from right or up from down? (Is that still called turbulence when you fly yourself around, or is it something else?) But I guess vomiting like I just got off the Alice in Wonderland teacups wouldn’t make for a romantic dream ending.
Still, with wild winds of inspiration and wisps of visions lighter than air—I can’t help thinking one of these magical dream mythologies of mine are book-worthy (or could be). What flies up must surely also fall down, no? I suspect somewhere between the lines, there are the makings of a great and fabulous tale!
Have you ever dreamed of flying or some other amazing power or skill? What were your dream experiences like? Was there anything interesting that stood out once you woke up? Tell me all about it in the comments!