Dreams of Flying Aren’t What They Used to Be
I dreamt last night that I could fly.
When I was young, I used to regularly have flying dreams and they always made me feel good – even excited – about the coming day. I moaned for years never having these dreams any more.
Their return should be a cause for celebration!
You’d think. This dream was, however, a far cry from those youthful dreams. Whereas I could once soar over the trees and telephone lines and cross a city or country in the blink of an eye, my dream last night was more of a ‘levitation dream.’ And I really don’t need anyone to interpret it for me, because this dream wore it’s meaning on its sleeve.
My wife, Laura and I were guests in a huge mansion. Standing at the sink in the large and very empty communal washroom in some distant wing of the building, I was thinking the floor wasn't as cold as it had been a few moments earlier and I looked down to see that I was no longer standing on it. I watched breathless in the mirror as I drew my knees up to my chest, then adjusted my altitude, so that I was fully a metre in the air. My heart jumped with joy when I saw my feet in the mirror above the sink. I did a careful spin before floating back down the hall to show Laura what I could do. She cocked her head and said truthfully and bluntly, “I would have been faster to walk.” She turned and nodded at the rumpled state of the rather luxurious room. “Now that you're here, you can help me make the bed, so we can get dressed for the party.”
In my suit and tie as we walked down the long corridors of the house toward the party, I asked her, “Why aren’t you more impressed. Flying isn’t something everyone can do. In fact, it’s sort of a miracle. I can perform a miracle, and you don’t even seem to care.” I was seriously more curious than offended.
She scowled. “Well, it’s not much of a miracle. I mean, what can you really do with it? I can’t see you flying off to save any crashing passenger jets. And you made us late for the party. Everyone else is already here.”
We went up a short set of steps and walked into a large, but not huge, room where people were sipping drinks and chatting. A caterer gave us drinks and hors d’oeuvres. It wasn’t long before I was itching to take flight again. I asked Laura, “do you think it would be okay if I showed them what I can do?” She smiled indulgently and held my drink while I lifted my feet from the floor. I looked around for admiring glances, but no-one looked my way. I flew over to a group of people I knew and showed off my ability. They made various noises of support and feigned enthusiasm and went back to the conversation I had interrupted. I stood and listened politely for a minute before flying back to get my drink from Laura.
By this point, newcomers to the party were carving wide arcs around me, making faces and trying to keep their distance, as though I was a drunk who couldn’t resist doing somersaults in a business suit. Before you know it I'd be puking on their shoes.
I said to Laura, “I am performing a miracle, here! Something none of these people can do. Why isn’t anyone impressed?”
She shrugged and suggested, “Maybe they’re just hungry. Or they’re afraid you’ll make them spill their drink. You are keeping the caterers away.”
I came back to Earth and reclaimed my own drink with a sigh. Licking the boozy sweetness off my lips made me yearn for something salty or savoury to counterbalance it.
“Yeah. I am too,” I said. “Let’s go find something to eat.”