I pay very close attention to my dreams, and last night’s have me truly disturbed. For many years I have had vivid dreams of flying and now that I actually can, it stands to reason that I take my dreams seriously. I’m record them in a private journal every morning.
Honestly I haven’t been dreaming much since I’ve been able to fly. I spend maybe one or two nights a week dreaming and I think they’re pretty typical- I miss a test, my kids are in trouble, my husband and I are having great sex, or I still dream sometimes that I’m flying. I especially dream of flying when I haven’t had a chance to get up there for a long time. All winter I was grounded and had only my dreams to enjoy. For a time I even wondered if all my flying was just a dream… But when spring hit I was back up there and I knew it was real.
So back to last night. I dreamed that I pooped in a bucket. Yes, you read that right. And the look on your face at this moment is probably the same one I had when I woke up and thought, “what the f—?” I simply don’t think I’ll find that entry in any dream dictionaries so I’m left to interpret on my own… In the dream I knew it was a weird thing to do but I had to poop and the bucket was available. I do remember not wanting anyone to find out what I did. I don’t remember wiping myself. Then I woke up. What does it mean? I certainly hope it was a one-time dream and not a harbinger of things to come.
I haven’t flown in months. It’s freezing here – record breaking low temperatures. There’s no way I can go up there.
I put on 10 pounds this winter. I need to lose 20. I can’t blame not flying. I don’t think I burn too many calories when I fly…
The sky has been so gray. I truly believe I could fly everywhere in the middle of the day and I think no one would see me. I would blend right in. Blue skies can be very dangerous but gray is wonderful. Unfortunately I would freeze in less than a minute.
I certainly don’t blend in on the ground very well lately. I am literally busting out of my clothes, breaking zippers. Snaps pop open with gusto at the most unexpected moments.
Losing weight used to be very easy. If I wanted to lose five pounds I just paid attention to what I ate and made sure I moved a little more. Now it takes significantly more work just to maintain my weight, let alone lose any.
The thing is, I actually like the way I look. I’m just the right amount of soft and cuddly. When I look in the mirror I see the same old me. Well, at least in the winter when I’m wearing layers of wool… In the summer I’m a little less vain, especially when the skinny-mom club is at the pool. These are the ladies wearing bikinis and looking every bit entitled to do so. They’re the ones with several kids between them who bring healthy snacks and sip flavored water and compare how many miles they ran that day. They absolutely deserve to look the way they do. Far from resentment, I feel really bad for them. I can’t imagine they’re actually happy. I sit there eating the snack bar cheeseburger special with fries and just throw a coverup over my belly-cinching one piece and I’m extremely content.
I still should lose the weight, though, because I’m a little afraid that maybe my heart is going to go one day. Extra weight probably isn’t good for me, I’m guessing. Plus I don’t want to invest in a new wardrobe…and when I see pictures of myself I’m startled that it’s me. Definitely not the same as the mirror image I admire! I hate every photo we took over Christmas but I won’t ever tell anyone, for fear of sounding like my mom. She never wants her picture taken and complains about every single one. “Look how fat I am. Look at my face! Do I really look like that?!” I never want to be that type of person, so I silently loathe the photos.
I just wish I could fly today. When I’m flying I feel light as a wisp of wind. Maybe it does burn a lot of calories. It must. I’ll feel better when I get back up there. I’m certain no one in the skinny-mom club can fly.
I can fly.
It feels so good to put those words in print. I’ve been hiding this secret from everyone – even my husband and children. The last thing I want is to be a media sensation. I look at all these famous people in the news and how every step is documented. To me fame would be hell. Of course, I’m not a young good-looking actress or model or singing sensation or even a crazy politician. I’m a middle-aged stay-at-home mother of four who lives in a quiet suburb. An actual soccer mom. I keep a pretty low profile. I don’t even go to PTA meetings. I know my picture wouldn’t be as titillating as those gorgeous, famous movie stars, but hey – I CAN fly. I don’t think I’m full of myself for saying the paparazzi might be interested in that! No thank you. Have you seen the X-men movies? Those people are total outcasts because of what they can do – freaks. OK, characters, not real people. But I can’t help thinking I would be labeled a freak if people knew I could fly. I AM a freak, I guess.
Why am I “coming out?” then? Well, it’s very lonely having a secret. Plus what if there are others? What if there really is some network of people with weird abilities, like in the X-men? OK, again it’s just a movie, but maybe someone’s out there. I have to find out, which is why I created this blog. My dream is that I’m some version of Harry Potter or Avenger or X-men, and someone will approach me to say “You’re not alone.” If there is some secret network of super-power humans out there, I’m ready for you. In the meantime, this is my story and my day-to-day life. I am thrilled, frightened and eager to share it all.
I first flew almost one year ago. It was a beautiful morning and I had just put the last of my three older kids on the bus for school. Little Annie was in her high chair eating breakfast. She had reached the age where she could be entertained for what seemed like hours trying to pick up Cheerios.
I was running around the house opening some windows to let in the first smells of early spring. Upstairs outside my bedroom there is a very small balcony overlooking the backyard and the woods behind our house. I opened the French doors and took a step out to feel the warmth of the morning sun on my face and arms. Here in northeastern Ohio, the sun is something to be lapped up whenever the opportunity arises, and I was like a child presented with a giant bowl of ice cream. I knew I had to quickly return to Annie. Any time I left her alone for a few moments in the high chair, I had visions of her choking…yet increasingly I took the chance. As I was turning to head back inside, I heard the strangest caw-like bird call. I could tell it was very close by. I leaned over the wooden rail to see if I could spot it, and the next thing I knew I was in the air.
Of course I thought I was falling to my death, or at least some severe injuries. It was so fast I didn’t even have time to scream. And then I was ot longer falling. I was hovering right outside the kitchen, looking in at Annie still eating her cheerios with gusto. My first thought was “Oh good, she’s OK.” It was probably a full ten seconds before I realized that I was floating. I looked around me and below me and above me. I wasn’t surprised. It was like I knew I should have been doing this all along. I raised my arms and shot up. I did loop-de-loops. I grinned in ecstasy as the spring air whipped through my hair and chilled my skin. I soared as high as I dared and lay back allowing the bright sun to warm me from head to toe. After maybe five minutes, I came down to check on Annie again and saw that her high chair was empty. I abruptly landed and ran to the back door only to find it locked. I shot up to the window I had come out of and ran down the steps calling for her. I found her pooping on the kitchen floor, right in front of the dishwasher.
As I was cleaning her and the floor and doing laundry, etc. – all the typical menial tasks that had made up my daily life for the past several years – I found myself marveling that she climbed out of the high chair on her own. That’s right. I was not the least bit astonished that I just flew like a superhero. I was in awe at the fact that Annie was able to move those clippie things on the tray and then climb down without the whole thing tipping over on her. How did she do that? I have trouble with those clips myself.
It really wasn’t until I put her down for her nap and had a moment to myself that the events sunk in. I was wondering if I should take the chance to fly a little while she was sleeping. FLY??!