Squishing About in My Brain

Amazing Dream

Posted on: November 23, 2010

from flagger central

I dreamt I was flying.

First I had a helicopter-car, but it was dented and the wheels had fallen off, and I didn’t know how to fly it and it had no gas. I asked for help, but no one could, or would. I was trying to get home from an outdoor holiday celebration of some sort, and couldn’t find my friends, Shelia and Jack, and was trying to get away before an ex showed up…it was the ex who had trashed the tires, I believe. And some upwardly mobile lesbian was camping out in my copter-car, so I had to get  it away from her—not sure how that happened, but then I was flying it by jumping off trees (didn’t work) and buildings to jump start it.

Then it morphed, and I was a young boy who could fly with special fabric clutched in his hands, and I was jumping off expensive houses and flyyyyyying.

Then it morphed and I was a Harry Potter/Daniel Radcliffe, or a lookalike. I was him and I flew away out of a fancy cliff top restaurant. Just took a run from the raised maitre-d desk and out the floor to ceiling windows (which should not have opened at all.)

Then I was myself, and I could fly with fabric rubberbanded to my hands, and I was constantly taking off from stranger’s roofs and flying out to sea. And then I morphed and was other people, most memorably Kristin Chenowith, and ANYONE could fly, I think, and she/I would just kick open tall windows and fly away into the air and over the ocean and convinced her lover (who was a geeky, recognizable character actor who i will try to come back and make note of when I can recall his actual name) …and we convinced him to fly out of a dinner party we were having, just leaving our guests and flying together, gliding away; kicking open high,  tall windows after climbing on furniture to get to them, and just gliding away together over the sea as the sun set.

It seems that any lightweight material would work; As Harry/Daniel, any fabric would work at all, but by the end, with Kristin, for example, it was gorgeously colored sunset-reds silky stuff.

The magic seemed to be in the rubber band configuration in each case. THEY had to be wrapped and clutched in your fist correctly, and then it was easy. You just WENT. You had to flap the fabric a few times and then just gliiiiiiiiide.

The ocean was always the destination—even in the first campout-holiday celebration part…that person flew over the town, toward the ocean, but ended up staying inland and swooping a swimming complex, where my daughter was happily swimming, but my character self (who was male at the time) wanted the ocean, not any old water at hand.

No, that isn’t right—the ocean was never the actual destination…but each time the flying took place over the ocean, on the way TO the destination, be it “home”, out to sea, or an unknown (to dreaming me)  island destination I couldn’t see from my takeoff point.

After Kristin, I suddenly woke up and saw that the sky was light and, muddled and forgetting I had gone to sleep at 1 p.m., I thought I had overslept and missed my 4 a.m. alarm and started to freak out…but it is 4:44 P.M. instead. I get to go back to bed in 4 hours.

It is fading, but it was the most peaceful, beautiful dream I have had in ages, despite occasional feelings of sadness in some plot moments. That all went away, because I could FLY.

I miss my dream.


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