Summary: I used to dream of flying. I don't have to dream anymore.
Flying High
When I was younger I used to dream of flying. I used to wish almost everynight that I could fly. My favorite flying dream was one where I was in the middle of nowhere in some forgotten praire, a place that had been spared from civilization and pollution alike. A place that knew no suffering. It was an endless plain, with an endless sky, both went on further than the eye can see no matter what height you were at. The only other thing besides me and the waist high was a massive majestic looking oak tree, fully alive as if it were a sapling and not the centuries that its size told you it was. The dream tended to vary occasionally, it was either day or night. The waist high grass always felt like silk caressing my skin even as I skimmed over it at amazingly fast speeds, it always waved in the soft breeze in a way similar to a crowd doing the roller coaster. Dark, vibrant, and somehow light in some way is the only way to describe the kind of green that the grass was. It contrasted sharply with the blue sky, and was beautifull during the night with the full moon and the stars. Sometimes though the grass would be gold. I don't mean yellow, I mean gold. It always complimented the sky but looked strange during the night.
Aside from what it looked like, my favorite part had been the rush. That giddy feeling that always came with this dream, it told me that everything was going to be ok no matter how bad things got and that I would never fall. The sensations that came from this dream were also a favorite. Whenever I dreamt that dream I could actually feel the sun on my back, the cool breeze, and the silky grass...
Then there were times when instead of staying close to the ground I would take a chance and fly up to the clouds and dart through them. It was cooler up in the clouds, and the sight was even more breathtaking than it had been before when I had been closer to the ground. Sometimes though instead of flying I would perch up in the top of the oak and just enjoy that wonderful world.
I don't have to dream of flying anymore. I miss the field, but I finally got my wish. Now when I fly for fun I have to do a majority of it at night. Even in the waking world though, the magic of it is still there. I can still feel the sooting warmth of the sun on my back during the day, and see the beauty of the world by the enchanting light of the moon. I prefer my flying during the winter now, rather than in the cool summer time when and where it took place in my dreams.
Nothing feels better to me than flying. When I fly I feel like I can do anything, probably because I'm breaking those oh so loved rules of gravity when I do. In ghost form I feel weightless, lighter than a feather. I was always told that if you believed, wished, dreamt, and put your mind to it that you could do anything. Well they were right. I can fly now, I can soar...
The End...
A little note to anyone reading this.
I actually dream that dream at least once or twice a month.
Also, I know the first paragraph was rather big and I am very sorry for that and any other grammatic errors you find. I was wondering if anyone coul find the flaws and point then out to me so that I can be better next time.
- Danielle