I just woke up from a dream about flying.
It was rather vivid and though I'm a bit spotty on the details and context of what was happening in the dream, I know this much:
I was on some journey, in a very harsh but brilliant landscape. At first it was a desert but later it becasme a craggy rocky coast with pine trees--but it was other worldly in that the water was completely clear and still, allowing you to see all the way to the bottom.
There were these things in the water, or more properly, floating on the top in large swirling patches, mixing with one another. Vivid reds, greens, browns--like algae blooms upon the crystal liquid.
Anyway, I was looking for something, with someone, but they weren't physically there--more like a narrator or still-small-voice. The items I was trying to get at this particular moment in the dream were up in an eve or rafter in this large wooden structure in the middle of the desert. The items were in (fake) leather cases, and looked something like the boxes that Emerson's lavaliere microphones are stored in.
I somehow got it into my head that I could fly up there if I wanted to. So I ran forward, leapt into the air, stuck out my arms and tried to fly.
Well, I sort of flew--but I had no control over my direction or altitude, and I quickly slowed, glided and fell/descended. But I kept trying, and eventually, I figured it out--I needed to work with the physics, what I knew about updrafts, birds, gliding, banking right and left to turn. I leapt into the air and flew into the air, riding an updraft and circling over the crystal clear pools and craggy rocks in a stunningly beautiful wilderness. (I don't know where the desert went at this point)
I dove down, gliding just above the water, then climbed up again, circling around and climbing higher into the clouds. i learned that if I climbed too steeply for too long, I would slow down and start to lose lift. It was thrilling and invigorating.
But eventually I landed. And when I did, I couldn't get going again.
I was once again outside that little wooden shack in the middle of the sand, and I though I ran and jumped, I just felt like a fool for ever thinking it was possible.
Now, I'm not sure of the meaning of this dream. But I feel it might represent my spiritual journey. If I could only figure out how to maintain lift, how to get off the ground...
I could soar.
The narrator, the voice that told me, urged me on, was the Spirit, guiding me--but I must do the real work.
It was a beautiful and marvelous dream. I hope I really can fly like that someday.