Remembering Makes Me Smile

I first dreamed I could fly when I was very young. Ascending past the tallest trees plunged me among the clouds—and past, but sun’s bright rays refused to burn my tender flesh. I felt quite free on each sojourn. Did love of make-believe engender dreams of flight? Was it vice versa? I just know I still delight in memories of dreamt adventures in the night. Perhaps you’ll laugh and think I’m nuts, but I confess, from time to time--though I am in my seventies-- I dream that, only briefly, I have taken flight and drifted back to bed upon a pleasant breeze. Psychiatrists might say my life is incomplete-- that dreams of flying symbolize that thing I lack! I won’t believe this unless in my dreams of flight I leave the earth and dream of never coming back!