My Flying Dreams



I dreamed a lot
During my childhood
About being able to fly,
And how neat that would be:
Jumping into the air,
Catching the nearest breeze,
And soaring high
Over rooftops and fence posts,
Keeping the eagles company
And playing tag with the crows.

As I grew older,
I still dreamed of flying,
But then I’d be Superman
Or Green Lantern,
Saving the whole world
From robbers, earthquakes,
Demanding teachers,
Or bullying girls
Who stole my gym bag,
Among other natural disasters.

Thirty years later,
I still dream of flying.
On days where the mundane
Becomes too much to handle,
I find the blank book I use
For writing my poems.
Then I put on my wings
And jump into pages
Where anything goes,
Nobody frets,
And the clouds in the sky
Are for floating on,
Looking at life
From the bird’s eye view
Of my mind.

Imagine that….
 
 
 
 

Excerpt
For as long as I can remember, I have had the recurring dream of being able to fly. I never had wings, or a jet pack, or any supernatural powers; I was simply able to get a running start, leap into the air, and fly. I’d go everywhere…neighborhoods, other cities, other countries, and sometimes other worlds. It didn’t matter that I’d never been to any of the places I’d been, or that I may never see them in life; my imagination made everything happen in my dreams.

Nowadays, my life is occupied with more practical aspects: work and family concerns fill most of my mental space. Even so, I still dream of flying, as much in daydreams as those that happen at night, and I still roam everywhere when I do. The difference is that those dreams stay in my mind long enough to write about them, giving them wings to fly from my soul to any who would read about them.