My Flying Dream

For years, I’ve had something of a re-occurring dream. Not every night, unfortunately, but every once in awhile, I’ll have my favourite dream: a flying one. When I started having them, I was only able to leap a few feet off the ground. The next one, I was able to leap and hold myself in the air briefly. Then, I could fly, but it was slow and low to the ground. Eventually, I was full on flying. I even remember one dream where I was actually Superman, flying around Metropolis. I even stopped a crime. There was a car chase involving bank robbers. I flew down and put my hand on the car so they could only spin their tires. When they gave up, I walked over to the driver’s door, easily ripped it off, and reached in to grab the robber. He pulled out a gun, shot me right in the forehead…and the bullet bounced off me. I woke up as he his eyes widened in fear. That still remains my favourite dream.

This latest one started off weird: playing what felt like a combination of soccer and ping-pong. It was me as goalie against two other guys. I managed to block most of the shots from the one guy, but then the other (the other goalie) took on shot with his paddle and scored, finally ending the game. Apparently, this was at work and this was the end of my shift. So I went to the car, hit the button my keys to have it make a sound only to discover that Dad was in the driver’s seat. This is where the dream gets awesome.

I told Dad, “You know, I think I feel like flying home. I’ll see you there.” He said okay and drove off like it was a regular thing, like I was walking home.

And then I took off into the air. For some reason, I even remember what I was wearing: a long, grey, trech coat (rain jacket style) and a greyish sweater underneath. Weird because I don’t usually remember what I wear in these dreams.

Anyway, I flew around downtown, heading for the bridge I don’t know what city it was. In my mind, I thought it was Halifax, but I didn’t recognize it. I just knew “home” was somewhere across the bridge. As I flew towards it, a guy on his balcony saw me with his jaw dropped. Guess flying people wasn’t a regular occurrence. He yelled to me, “How are you doing that?!” I responded, “I have no idea!” with a smile and flew off.

As I flew across the bridge (which resembled more the Westmoreland Bridge in Fredericton), gawkers took pictures on their phone. One person said it had to be some kind of stunt, but someone pointed out that from where I was flying (about twenty feet away from the bridge), there was no way you could use wires to hoist me or move me like that. To show this off, I even waved my arms around before flying away from them.

Well, at this point, I remember getting lost finding my way home. “That’s okay,” I thought, “I’ll enjoy flying around until I see something familiar close to home.” This led me to the highway, where I safely flew on the grassy divide between lanes, picking up speed to match the cars on the highway. I eventually found myself at a river, which led to a giant dam. I flew over that and over the reservoir, then into a forested area and found myself…

On a university campus. It looked very similar to St. Thomas University’s campus, actually. There was much bustle and students hanging and milling about. They were so busy with their own stuff that they didn’t even notice me.

And then I woke up.

About Nick C. Piers

Writer and creator of the Armadillo Mysteries, I've had a passion for the creative arts all his life. I'm an avid comic book fan, a DDP yoga practitioner , and urban cyclist.
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