I used to dream I was flying. I can still remember the feeling of hovering above the land, looking down at grass and trees and people, and smiling. I loved flying dreams.
I had them frequently in my teens and then, somewhere around age 20, they stopped. I’ve always wondered why, because in a world that is changing rapidly and becoming more frightening by the day, flying–if only in dreams–sounds like a great way to escape. Who wouldn’t want to be free of the ground for a while? Who wouldn’t want to be weightless, gliding above the surface?