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November 2009 
Flying Dream
Posted on Mar 16th, 2009
by 
Doug
Doug
yes,
there was a missed call
and I didn't even think to look
until it was another day
and it was some other people,
like a body-double
who made those calls
Do you remember dreaming this?
I remember waking up
there was someone standing over me
my pockets had been emptied on the bed
there were things I had forgotten about,
important things I
didn't see anymore.
but someone saw them,
saw them clearly,
more clearly then I ever could
with my closed eyes.
I had a dream of sweet music
it was drifting in from the night woods behind the deck
I could hear the rhythm
I could hear the soft cords,
the singing, the sadness,
could hear the thoughts creating
this vast space
like a man who could unbutton his shirt
and be nothing but the wind sailing through,
like my empty pockets were me,
like what was spilled on the bed was lost,
like I wasn't dreaming anymore,
like this standing over me,
this accusation
is the end of all
I heard from the back deck
I can fly, can't I?
Please?
there was a missed call
and I didn't even think to look
until it was another day
and it was some other people,
like a body-double
who made those calls
Do you remember dreaming this?
I remember waking up
there was someone standing over me
my pockets had been emptied on the bed
there were things I had forgotten about,
important things I
didn't see anymore.
but someone saw them,
saw them clearly,
more clearly then I ever could
with my closed eyes.
I had a dream of sweet music
it was drifting in from the night woods behind the deck
I could hear the rhythm
I could hear the soft cords,
the singing, the sadness,
could hear the thoughts creating
this vast space
like a man who could unbutton his shirt
and be nothing but the wind sailing through,
like my empty pockets were me,
like what was spilled on the bed was lost,
like I wasn't dreaming anymore,
like this standing over me,
this accusation
is the end of all
I heard from the back deck
I can fly, can't I?
Please?
Access: Public
Yes,
I remember,
some of it even while I was awake.
It happens all the time.
Flying always makes for an unbeatable escape,
though last night I was going to but I didn’t,
and it turned out just as well.
Maybe I learned something new,
the contents of lost pockets.
I love the way we dream
Hi Shanti,
Sometimes I think that flight is what we are but I sometimes drift into the doldrums and loose altitude. When that happens I have to have the courage to fly into the cliffs in the hopes of catching an updraft. The risk is I could just crash and I do sometimes and I wonder if I’m being willful about it, if I just intend the crash?
The unconscious bird dreams again of an open window.
I remember the first time I listened to “Jonathan Livingstone Seagull.” The fact he put flying above all else was capitivating to me. The closest I get to that is becoming immersed in something creative, and forgetting to eat or do anything other than “flying.” It’s addictive.
Maybe one of the things emptied out of your pockets was a wadded up $20 bill and a tiny bottle with a tiny note saying, “Go south 43 miles on Hwy 126, turn right onto the dirt road behind the 7/11 store, stop and buy a good beer before heading down the dirt road into the sunrise.”
You didn’t lose the treasures, they just ended up all spread out on the bed and you have to gather up the important ones, leave the lint balls and next week’s work schedule behind, and follow the dream of flying!
The accusation is only the weight of the world we allow to bear us down… shake it off like the dust it is…
In my dreams often flight is an escape from fear.
If it’s fight or flight well I’m not big on confrontations.
But what I saw in this dream was that need to escape wasn’t actually necessary, the poor guy just wanted to tell me something had dropped from my pocket. Funny just how real this is in my life.
Willfull indeed, however crashing is usually just an invitation to wake-up.
Still if the wall is an illusion perhaps no window is necessary?
We fly without wings don’t we?
Wow Otter! I haven't heard about that book in a while. The first time I heard about it was from a high school counselor when I was 16. That conversation was pivotal in me learning how to fly again. Ironic that we already know how when we are young and then we have to learn again, learn to believe that it is even possible.
Hey Pearly! $20 eh? That'll score a 6 pack for sure! I could even go for the 16oz cans!
Yeah, it's good to dump your pockets out on the bed now and then. You just never know what you'll find if you're brave enough to take a look!
Hi Shanti, Is there an escape from fear?
But I hear you on the not big on confrontation part. Sometimes I wonder how far I'll let the die on the inside progress before I'm willing to say something?
Sometimes I'm confused, was it really a raven tangled in fishing line trapped at the top of a pine tree or was it a kite and the line broke?