Falling Dreams

I have to roll the shades up at night so I can look at the shadowy figures outside my window as I fight sleep. The hills are dotted with lights from the windows of homes; the orange streetlights of the road that winds up the troughs outline the contours of the mountain. It all helps to calm me from the sleep that I always resist. Eventually my eyes get heavy, the scene fades into black, and I fall…into dreams.

I don’t like sleep because it seems as if I’m practicing for death. And I lose myself in dreams. I don’t know myself anymore in the land of Nod. I don’t know if I am one of the characters, multiple characters, or watching the whole dream from some omnipotent distance. You’d think sleep would be welcome – in dreams you can do anything, or so they say.

I’ve never been able to fly. Or I should say fly effortlessly and for as long as I want. I hate trying to fly in dreams because it is always such an effort. Even if I get off the ground (which is half the time at best) I can only attain flight for fleeting moments before gravity takes hold and brings me spiraling to the ground. In flying dreams I always know its me.

The other night I shot off the ground like a rocket. Usually it’s a tedious affair requiring much huffing and puffing, lots of hand motion (ala Superman) and jumping doesn’t hurt either. I rarely get heights higher than the tree tops. And it is awesome if I can stay airborne for more than a few blocks.

This night I leaped into the sky and accelerated to incredible speeds as the Earth shrank below me. I thought I’d had it licked for once. But as soon as I thought that I sputtered and fell. A long, gut-wrenching, stomach in your throat, fall. I went down even faster than I went up. And when I hit it really hurt. It always hurts. And I never wake up. I always hit. I’ve heard it said that if you hit the ground when you fall in a dream you will die for real. Nonsense. I’ve hit hundreds of times, maybe thousands. I really, really hate it. But I don’t die for real. I wake up shortly afterward, sometimes sweating, sometimes shaking, always reluctant to close my eyes again.

I don’t want to fly in my dreams. I don’t want to fall, and I don’t want to hit the ground. Probably will tonight after all this. Better keep the window shades open.