I dreamt last night that I was flying.
For most of you, this is likely no big deal, and you’re sitting there saying “And? Her point is?” For me, dreamer of death and destruction, murder and mayhem, this was, in a word, incredible, and leading me to believe that something in my head is beginning to work right.
In the dream I was with a man, a father/mentor/master-I couldn’t tell. I wasn’t a child, but I wasn’t old either. At first my ability stemmed from his, some type of magic. We flitted from place to place, building to building, gliding through the air. We landed on the still blade of a wind turbine, high enough to see for days. My intermittent fear of heights? It didn’t matter. I felt it-I faced it, and it melted away.
And then, with a nod to him, I lept into the air, circling myself in rapture, casting my body around and around, the wind rushing through me, my hair as feathers, icarus to no one.
It has been a very long time since I woke up from a dream begging to go back, begging to simmer in a simple feeling. It was that sense you have when you eat something fantastic, when you get a new haircut and run your fingers through your now fabulous hair, that voice inside saying “Now THAT was JUST FINE!”
It was just plain nice to have a normal dream, to have a simple happy, positive dream with no blood, no real death, no pain.
What a concept.
What’s your favorite dream?
(eta: Found this, which makes me smile: “If you are flying with ease and enjoying the scene and landscape below, then it suggests that you are on top of a situation. You have risen above something. It may also mean that you have gained a different perspective on things. Flying dreams and the ability to control your flight is representative of your own personal sense of power.”)