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I once flew in my dreams.
Then I read a book
that taught me how to control it.
I could fly anywhere. I could
flap my arms and stay aloft,
could veer and swoop.
So doing I lost the ability to fly.
When I dream of you
I’ll leave you just as you are.
Copyright 2019 Doug Anderson
I often fly in my dreams. It is wonderful. In some dreams, I’m on the ocean’s shore, at night, in fog and I run as fast as I can, blind, and can’t get off the ground. In other dreams I am like lightening, soaring high. — When I was a teenager and my tyrant stepfather was lord over my life, I would rise up out of bed, pause in my tiny room in mid-air, and then jet down the stairs where my tormentor our slam me to the floor. This dream visited me many times. In the week before my departure for the Navy, the dream changed. I lifted up my bed and charged down the stair, airborne, and slipped free of his grasp. I rocketed into the sky and looked back for just a moment, to whisper goodbye. My dreams of flying are a barometer of my spirit.
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What a beautiful prose poem, Daniel! Thank you!