Come fly with me

I was flying in my dreams again last night.

When I was little, we had a yard. Not a nice glamorous landscaped thing, just a skeleton of concrete and brick. A little square of nothingness at the back of the house. At the front of the house was something that may have been a lawn once. But both sides were surrounded by a brick wall with a gate. To one side in the yard was could have been a raised flowerbed, but now grew only mud and stones.

But it the back yard wall which took a prominent place in my recurring dreams. They were of the type that were almost indistinguishable from real life (as an aside, I do have a tendency to dream while awake. Not daydreaming, you understand, but actual dreams).

There was always a small collection of paint tins balanced on it – all filled to the brim with crayon wax. Pick the right colour (red), and you would be able to fly. And then I would wake up and run downstairs to grab the tin I knew would make me fly. But of course, they were never there and I would spend the day in abject disappointment.

So, without my red-crayon-paint-tin, I would never be able to do more than hover gracefully, and flow forward as though on some invisible Segway.

But then something horrible happened last year that completely deconstructed my personality – for the better. And when I moved on from that, I began to fly – really fly – in my dreams. I remember one where I shot off over my hometown, which seamlessly melted into the village I grew up in. I was off like a rocket, going faster and faster, feeling the wind in my face and a total exhilaration. That now has become the new version of my ‘flying’ experiences.   Like last night. I was whizzing around everywhere. It was great.

Feel free to get psychoanalytical on me. It doesn’t take Freud or Jung to work out what’s going on. Research would suggest that I have gone from being stuck in a situation where I had to do as I was told to being totally free and in control of my life.

But there is another explanation… one which ties in with the myths of old… We’re mammals, even if we’re not completely human. Name me any flying mammals…

There’s 3 that I can think of…

1)A flying fox

2) A bat

3) Someone in a plane.

And we have a winner. Number 1) is pretty much a bat and I was just being silly with number 3).

 


Follow me on Twitter @EverydayVampire

I may well follow you too. Not in a creepy way…
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