Flying High Again
I got to fly again last night, although it was not my preferred method of flight. I wait patiently for the two (sometimes three) instances a year in which a dream allows me to take flight. Each time this most exhilarating opportunity is presented to me I will fly all on my own, in a manner that transcends light years beyond extraordinary. I glide much like a bird, very high-up where it is quiet and peaceful. Despite my severe acrophobia, I am never ever afraid.
Last night’s flight was anything but peaceful or serene. It all started at a place where I was having a dinner party with people I don’t know. Though it was a very elegantly catered dinner, expensive platters and other items were breaking so I was busy trying to repair them with super-glue. After dinner, we all moved out onto the balcony overlooking a beautiful scenic view that much resembled the oceanside of Greece. Above the sea, several small-engine planes were flying high and performing very daring maneuvers. I was told that momentarily I was to ride ‘back home’ in one of these planes, apparently having no say in the matter. I watched on as the planes repeated their risky antics, and remember asking someone at least twice if my designated plane would still have enough gas afterward to complete the return trip back.
I strapped in tight with shoulder harnesses, seat belts and the like, and much to my surprise I found my faithful man sitting beside me – I was no longer alone. The small plane took off like a bolt of lightning and immediately commenced into the daring moves I had witnessed previously. Unaware that my heart had stopped, the seemingly fearless pilot made a complete nose-dive towards the sea, only to pull up at the last moment. He then inverted and carried us for what seemed like ten minutes, for which I kept my eyes closed. Flipping over, and over again and then again, he picked a building on dry land as his next target. The absolute last second before impact, he pulled up – we found ourselves flying straight up at a 90 degree angle. All during this terrifying ride I could physically feel my stomach drop, my head pound, and the gravity pull me when inverted. I was completely helpless and ode to this crazy pilot on a death mission who seemed quite intent on taking us along for the ride down.
In the past I’ve had much success with ending an undesirable dream. I’ve also learned that if I’m unable to end it, I can at least change it’s direction. This wasn’t the case last night. In my lifetime I’ve heard many people say you don’t feel pain in your dreams. Maybe some people don’t – but even as a child I’ve always felt pain in mine. In fact, any physical sensation that can be felt in reality can be felt in my dreams. Pain is just my least favorable one.
Risky. Out of control. Careless.
Dear Dreams: I’ll man my own flight next time, thanks.