Day 10.194 Sure was Fun

The boy who flew too close to the grass.

I read once about dreams of flying and how they symbolize something sexual but I can't remember what. Was it in search of? Lack of? Need for? Or what (TF)?

I had a mach 5 flying dream the other night that I will begrudgingly share with you. I say begrudging because there is something very private about this, and, well, you might laugh or consider too childish for your tastes. Regardless...

I am in a garage late at night. I stand in the middle on the concrete floor looking up at the ancient 2x12 rafter joists. I know that atop them is the dust of ten thousand days, actual molecules from 1950 to today. For reasons mostly subliminal and symbolic I feel the need to touch the dust. Maybe it contains some magic element that is a key ingredient of the elixir I need as initiation into another level of consciousness. The old eye of newt and unicorn tooth formula perhaps. I take a quick visual inventory and deduce that there is no ladder available, matter of fact there is nothing in the garage at all. It is completely empty. I start to formulate a plan. The ways and means committee says that if I am to sample a pinch of this sacred pixie dust I am going to have to jump or fly like a helicopter.

Immediately I feel my toes, ankles and calves prepare for a vertical ascent. I also realize that it has absolutely nothing to do with muscle and my lack of jumping ability but the mental roadblock of doubt I have nurtured over the years. I have reversed the alchemy from gold to lead.

THAT is what is keeping me grounded. Of course, how could I have been so stupid? Let go, get light, allow yourself the power to rise up. Believe it! TRUST.

I feel a strange sensation in my core, a second chakra tingling in preparation for lift-off. I am chanting to myself the flying mantra and building confidence as the turbines warm to operating speed. I feel a glow radiate from within and know I can do it, matter of fact I know now that I have already done it a thousand times, it is just like riding a bike. Let go. Grant yourself permission to achieve your dreams.

I go. And rise into the air with a slight push from my bare feet. As I rise I chant of lightness by repeating the mantra of yes, singing it now as high octane support of my passage.

I lift and grab the top of the rafter feeling the light carbon-dusty sediment, rubbing some between my thumb and forefinger as a test. I am satisfied, but instead of descending I decide to keep the power and take a lap or two outside. This is freaking fabulous.

And I am now flying over the green, wet grass, next to the fence, above gentle rolling terrain and feeling ecstatic, happy, satisfied and whole. This is it.

I wake up when two dogs from next door sense the unauthorized intrusion into their kingdom and sound their howling alarms.

I have no idea what this means. Maybe I will win my age group in Kona, maybe one of my former gal friends will text me with a dinner invitation, or maybe our new website will hit pay dirt. I am not sure.

But it sure was fun.