Flying a Caped Leger

Recreating (and advancing) pk’s censored domains: & / Personal / Stories / Themes / Dreams /
@ K. 2004 09 22

I dream that I’m skiing in my shoes down elaborate municipal stairways so often that those dreams fade fast from my memory of the moment: “Oh, that one again.” I love them, but they’re no longer especially notable. In contrast, in this morning’s dream I was flying. More details later, for the moment I just sketch: memory aids.

I’m flying. Over the buildings’ roofs, over the belfry, over meadows, over office buildings. Skiing is great because you’re close to the ground, close to the rock, the tree: that can kill you. Flying is great because you’re not. The ground can kill you, but it’s not close.

Not much musculature is involved. I’m wearing a cape. Wow, what a cape! but I’m wearing it, not growing it. The cape doesn’t catch the air: not by itself. I’m buoyed by the stiffened leather covers of gigantic municipal ledgers! Somebody with a telescope on the ground might be able to read about local property transfers.
This dream went on for a long time.

I dreamed that I was figuring out the updrafts beautifully.

For most of the time, the birds and I had the sky to ourselves. But birds mostly just fly from this tree to that, this branch to that, from the tree to the fence, from this crook in the stream to that crook in the stream. I flew everywhere. I didn’t circle like an eagle, like a vulture. I didn’t look for something and then fall to rip it apart like a raptor. I just flew and flew, getting so good adjusting the leger covers.

I wish I could have seen my cape from above. I wish I could have seen me from below.

The dream went on so long, it did not have a happy ending. At least an hour before I was due to get up, the sky started filling up with other people flying ledgers. First other daredevils. But then kids. Girls. Everybody.
And there was no air traffic control. I’d get bumped and lose my updraft!

People were getting knocked to the ground left and right. Guys were forcing others to collide with roof corners, with flag poles. The other guys weren’t killers, they just weren’t very good at flying.
I woke up before anybody crashed me.

Stories by Age by Theme by Others

About pk

Seems to me that some modicum of honesty is requisite to intelligence. If we look in the mirror and see not kleptocrats but Christians, we’re still in the same old trouble.
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