Last night I dreamt I was flying
I simply took off, heading for the heights and leaving
behind me the pace and pressures of our everyday
existence on earth. I floated through the air and felt
the wind tearing and tugging at my clothes like a
playful puppy dog. I felt the irresistible force of the
elements and the pull of pure nature. I sensed a
certain closeness to my inner self. The feel of
freedom was all about me. Is it any wonder, I
thought, that the dream of flying is almost as old as
mankind itself?