Where we go in the night,
Subconscious, unconscious,
As if Icarus, we soar,
sans wax wings.
Our bodies weightless
Yet visible to others.
As children
We long for hope
For being good at something,
For peers' astonishment,
For distinction after bullying
Brings humiliation.
As adolescents
Who wouldn't want to slam dunk?
Who wouldn't want recognition,
Praise, cheering?
Like teen wolf or something
Less hairy.
As adults
We wish to fly away
From this life, this job,
This relationship,
These pressures.
Yet we all fly
Though most dreams
Are based on reality,
A mixed stew of daily experience
Books we've read
Media we've seen.
But this is not.
Can we reduce it?
Is this unique to airplane familiarity?
How could it be?
Why would the Bard say
Four centuries ago that
Death would have us fly
To an undiscovered country
We know not of?
Is it science?
Is it evolution?
Do we share a common ancestor
With reptiles that became birds?
Did we once fly
So effortlessly?
We branched off
Earlier than that,
For we are mammals and again
Branched off before bats.
What does the dream state know?
Are we like sands in a desert,
Each one of us suspended and bouncing,
Becoming more rounded
As matter and energy collide?
In the atomic structure,
Are we not temporarily protons and neutrons,
A body of gravity,
Though these electrons are always longing
To break free?
Herein is the brilliance of dreams
That we know
Something from here
And from the other side,
An awakening from an all too
False existence of exclusive solidity
In sleep and connection
To when energy
Escapes this matter
And joy is real
Eternally
And we must all be changed...in the twinkling of an eye...then we'll fly away. I enjoyed reading your poem a lot. Very in depth thoughts, stimulating, and exhilarating kind of a journey you allow us to fly alongside you in these Dreams Of Flight!
it is all about the body and soul, and the latter represents an impulse of energy able to leave the body at a certain condition while dreaming. Such an occurrence is fixed literary many times with the main problem of that impulse return to the body. That part of the matter seems to me as a greater challenge to describe. Enjoyed reading. Cheers, alex
Welcome back. And what a poem you bring us! In a single piece you have delved into the very scientific and religious thoughts about dreaming and why it tends to be weightless. We all, including flying creatures, insects, birds and bats, are victims to the mass of our planet. Not only holding the atmosphere in place enabling us to breathe and to fly on its fluid existence, but to give us a sense of direction, up and down, right and left… An orientation and grounding.
In dreams, our mind is creating images that have no gravity… Hence, these images are flying. Lately, I have been flying out of bed in dreams to the point of waking up. Then, I discover that I'm still in the same bed I thought I flew out of.
Much deeper than my poem, A Flight of Fancy. Kudos.
You absolutely nailed those 3 stages of life. Dreaming we can fly is the one dream common to all mankind. When I dream I'm flying, I'm like doing the back stroke. I wonder what that means?
The spirit of challenging the unknown, the mystery awaiting each night's slumber, the morning-after remembrance... it all has a collective purpose as the sleep state has been studied and a consensus prevails indicating that those whose dreams feel as though a catharsis has occurred have indeed tapped into that part of synapses rejuvenation thought to be essential for clarity of consciousness. You have obviously soared into overviews many of us long for. Keep dreaming.
First, welcome back, dear Danae. I missed you a lot. But what a super poem to come back with! You have prodded and poked at one of the great fantasies within the dream state. I wish I knew the precursors to dream flight because I do some of my best work from up there soaring with no power source other than my desire to take off the get up there. Oh yes, to wheel and soar high in the sunlit silence and to chase the shouting wind along. It's always a solo experience for me, but I wouldn't mind finding you up there somewhere near cloud #9. Great write.
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Thanks.
Zach
In dreams, our mind is creating images that have no gravity… Hence, these images are flying. Lately, I have been flying out of bed in dreams to the point of waking up. Then, I discover that I'm still in the same bed I thought I flew out of.
Much deeper than my poem, A Flight of Fancy. Kudos.
Ron