Flying Dream

Flight dreams don't come that often, but they're always joyful.

This one felt personal. Imagine returning to your childhood home, and finding that you're a couple of decades early because you're looking at the home as it once was, before the surrounding council houses and residences. Back when it was just a lonely old house atop a sloping garden, all fields.

What made it a flight dream was my cloak. I wore a cloak made of a black material which could stretch either side of me on a thought, becoming wings which generated lift. I was walking down the bottom road, a broad but rutted old highway. Calling upon the cloak, I began to fly up along the old field towards the house, flying no more than about five or so metres above the grass until I reached the house.

When I landed, the owner came out to meet me. His wife watched from a first storey window, petrified - she had seen me flying towards the house.

I explained that I will grow up in the old place - just that, for some reason unknown to me, I hadn't even been born yet. I was a traveller through time, and I had no idea how I'd come to be in this period, so early in the house's history.

I didn't tell him that he would be gone from the place by the 1970s, and that we would be the very next owners. I didn't need to tell him his future. I think his missus may have guessed.

The one thing I did do was to show to the owner that I could fly. I extended the cloak, took off, rose to around ten metres, followed the curvature and slope of the field, then took up a thermal and rose to a few hundred metres until I caught the local jet stream, then I just sped off towards the east a few minutes.

I told him that it would take about half an hour for me to get back, once I disengaged from the jet stream. I was right. and by the time I got back, a storm cloud was closing in from the east, lightning flashing overhead. I landed back on the grounds of the old place, and the owner asked me why I'd chosen to land early. I informed him that the air was about to get blustery - as I spoke, the wind picked up, proving me right.

The dream ended just as the old man invited me in to spend the night. I have no idea what he'd have thought of me, or my 21st century sensibilities. Or my weird occult creed. Or the things I had seen, in the years to come.

Flight

I had entered a shopping mall of some sort. In one of the stores, I realised that I could fly, so I clambered onto a tall shelf facing the entrance. The glass doors opened; a customer walked in; I took off, heading right for the customer, who shrieked and ducked to avoid me.

I went straight through the open glass door, banked left, flew along the corridor over the heads of the panicky customers and entered an open space where the walls formed an atrium of sorts, open to the sky. No glass dome on top, as far as I was aware. So I flew straight up, nothing but plain brick walls around me, until I reached the top. At the top, the uppermost tier of stores. Gardens, restaurants, an open air amphitheatre. Overhead, blue skies and fluffy clouds. It was as if the atrium was the eye of a mall-shaped hurricane; and the brickwork was the eye wall.

And so I finally came to rest, sitting on the lip of this atrium, my legs hanging over the precipice, enjoying the view.

Juggling

I was in the back yard of my old house, back when there was a garden there. The cops had those flying police cruisers from The Fifth Element, and one of them was flying around looking for me.

As I watched, the thing came down on me at a steep angle from above, only to swoop away at the last minute. Buzzing me for kicks. It did this a second time, again for laughs, just to see me flinch or respond somehow.

The third time, though, I could sense that this was going to be an attack in earnest. No more cat and mouse. So I did something. The car stopped in mid-flight, held in place like a fly in a spider's web of invisible forces. I gestured, and the car moved. I waved the car about in the air, some fifty feet above my head, like a flag.

Across the road from me, one of my neighbours was an American Facebook friend of mine, whom I'll call Tami. I could see her ascending on a broomstick in the yard next door. She had two cop cars under her control, holding on to them telekinetically with one hand while controlling her flight with the other.

I had a long strip of white cloth - a felt pelmet - and I telekinetically rolled it up into a long, thin, rigid pole which I mounted and rode like a staff into the sky. Drawing level with Tami, we faced one another and began juggling the cop cars between one another.

And that was the rest of the dream. Tami and me, flying like witches and wizards in the air, juggling cop cars with telekinesis.

That was as far as the dream got before the alarm went off.