I like birds.
I think they have it made, … being able to fly!
I wish we could fly like birds!
I keep telling my son that I want to learn hang-gliding. He asked me: “Why not skydiving?” I answered: “I’d be too scared.” That made him laugh. I guess he’s never thought of the huge difference between flying, going places by air, and free-fall.
But I did.
And I’ve been flying often,
when I was in my twenties.
I had vivid dreams of flying; so vivid that I still remember as if it was last night.
I wouldn’t fly high, but more like a medium bird – maybe a robin or a seagull – close to the ground, over the roofs of the houses of my neighborhood, above streets and parks so that I could see and observe the people and vehicles who went about their business.
(Gulls and other waterfowl have it extra made, of course, since they can walk, swim and fly!)
Sometimes, I would fly out into the country, over rounded hills and acres of wheat and oats and corn. I could see cows and horses grazing and almost taste the scent of grass and sun and farms.
I haven’t had that dream anymore since many years.
I don’t know why.
Instead, I had a couple of times that nightmare where I was a butterfly flying over a beach and a sudden wind gust and storm was trying to push me to the open water, far out over the ocean where I would have perished, for sure.
I never knew if I made it or not since I always woke myself up before.
Birds get sometimes displaced by storms.
I would be careful of the weather if I were a bird.
PS… Papa Freud and Uncle Jung would – of course – have a field day about my dreams. 🙂