I had this reoccurring dream for about four years on Halloween as a child. I could fly. Every year the location of the dream was our neighborhood, around 21st Avenue South and 53rd Street in Gulfport. It was one of the most vivid dreams of my life and one filled we glee and elation. I mean really fly. No jet pack or arm flapping. Just leaning forward and lifting into the air. No effort, no hassle, no sweat. It was always night time and we were Trick-or-Treating. I can remember floating up above the street lights. The scene below appeared so realistic. The street lights spread their illumination in circular patterns along the roads. It reminded me of bright little islands equally spaced in the darkness that served as way stations along the trek where kids could check out the booty that bulged from the pillow cases we used for collecting our haul. I could see the families as they moved between these isles of light. Flashlights being shined by parents in front of their kids as they unsuccessfully tried to control the impulse to run to the next house with a porch light on and then quickly to the next one. Back then most houses were lit in invitation for the kids to knock on the door or ring the bell then shout as loud as possible “Trick or Treat!” With great ease and joy I would float down from this vantage and drift effortlessly along the sidewalk or the edge of the street greeting fellow beggars as we made our rounds. Rarely did my flying surprise or disturb anyone. Most seemed to accept my means of travels as just part of the night. But every so often a kid would be startled and drop their bag of candy. I would simply slowly fly over, pick up their bag and hand it back to them. Then fly on. Around and through the trees. Over the roofs. Between the houses. Back up above the street lights and then down amongst the other kids again. What a wonderful and happy dream this was.
Posted on: Fri, 31 Oct 2014 11:47:47 +0000