I had a dream last night that I could fly. Do you ever have those dreams? I listened to an interview with David Sedaris not long ago, and he said he dreamed about flying a good bit. Wait, that is not true at all. He said he dreamed about his teeth falling out. Who said they had dreams about flying?
Anyway, however common they might be, I don't know that I've ever had one, although flying felt so familiar when I did it. I think I had just spent a night at the president's house, but not George Bush the president, the archetypal, ever-good and important president of dreams, and it was absolutely wonderful. And then it was morning, and the presidential wife had left gift bags outside our doors and candy under our pillows, you know, like a good wife would do. And I felt no desire to sleep at all, and stepping out to wander the earth, I ran into Shawn Scott in the courtyard at Emory, which is basically where my friendship with Shawn Scott lives, and he was doing great, and we were going to go somewhere and get breakfast after he went and did something. So as I was waiting for him to come back, I started jumping and flapping my arms a little bit, just to pass the time, and was getting a few feet off the ground, remembering that I could fly and wondering why I didn't do it more often. So I flapped some more and was getting to even greater heights until, with great effort, I made it to a party on the rooftops, a party that is ever going on, but that I had never had access to. And a kind gentlemen, a Saint Peter of sorts, gave me a badge and a sash with three slots for giant gold coins in them, and he told me, with such a smile on his face, that each one got me a free and enormous beer. And then he gave me one of those beers, and it was made for giants. And I laughed with glee.
Why did beer make it to the pinnacle of my flight? I think it may have something to do with last night. last night when I drank beer and soared. or maybe beer just means good times in the mythology of my subconscious. There were so many gifts in my dream. free ones. I felt so fortunate. Am I so fortunate? I am. Every moment of life is a gift. What a cliché! But isn't it true.
"Why don't I fly all the time?" I kept asking myself. Why don't I fly all the time? I've always had it in me, I just forget about it. The flying of my dreams isn't gentle and effortless. It is laborious and conspicuous, like a child swimming in mid-air. I have very bad aim, and fall on my back repeatedly, but I'm not so fragile, I just get up and do it again, and in the end, I am flying, and I ascend to great heights. Why don't I fly all the time?
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