Friday, August 28, 2009


A friend and I have talked over the years about dreams. Many people, when they recall their dreams tell of a dream of flying. In psychology and other circles, flying can be and indicator of a wish or desire beyond the common one.

I only remember one dream about flying. When I was in college I used that dream in a writing class where we were required to write in vivid detail. Maybe that’s why the dream stayed with me most of my life. The details? Some other time. Anyway, my friend and I have discussed her dreams about flying. But at some point we both agreed, I have to fly as well.

I don’t remember my dreams often. I do know I want to fly. So I decided to do just that. Not hang gliding or parasailing, but imagining my life above the trees and in the air where only hawks and eagles roam. I decided I would fly; I would live my life in such a way where the dreams I’ve held onto, the sense of life being a joyous journey, would be the life I live. I’ve decided each day to fly. When I put pen to paper, fingers to computer, or pencil, paintbrush or marker to a flat surface, each time is a opportunity to fly.