Monday, July 24, 2006

Louise in the Sky with Diamonds

June woke up this morning with something very important to say. It was a bit hard to decipher but was eventually unencrypted: "Lala* flied in the sky."

"Louise flew in the sky?"

"Yeah."

"What were you doing?"

"I closing my eyes in my sheets."

"Oh."

Do you remember those vivid flying dreams of childhood? I had two I was convinced were real, one where I slowly floated up the red-carpeted staircase and around the upstairs of my childhood home; and another where I drifted up off of a beach, caught up by the wind, until I was hovering a hundred feet over the water looking down at the people below.

Note: Apparently it was a busy evening for magic realism in our household. When Louise was asked if she remembered any dreams from the night before, she responded "I dreamt about Papa except he didn't look like Papa. He was a pig, and we went on adventures together."

* Louise.

5 comments:

  1. I didn't realize that Louise was a "lala" too!

    Knew I loved that girl.... :)

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  2. Ah, you're a floater. Some people walk off cliffs or tall buildings. Others run really fast and get airborne. I have an odd way of lying parallel to the ground and scooting with my hands until I build up enough speed to take off. Maybe you should do a survey and see what other methods your readers use to get flying. What does it all mean? Buggered if I know.

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  3. Yeah, floating. It never seemed to be the result of any decisive action on my part, just some subtle internal shift that released me from the bonds of gravity. When I was young enough and still believed these events to be real, I would attempt to will myself into weightlessnes - sadly without any success.

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  4. Oh, and I forgot to mention that June was very pleased with Louise's vision of me as an adventure-loving pig: "Piggy Papa! Piggy Papa! Piggy Papa!"

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  5. Man, I fly all over the place in dreams...through bubble boundaries and fast like a jet or sometimes I have to (absurdly) flap my arms over and over, feeling the weight of my body slowly overcome by a sheer will to get off the ground...but so slowly. Heights vary. I hate it when I shoot straight up. It scares the bejeezums out of me. Often, if I have a night full of dreams that feature a bunch of physical effort I wake up more fatigued than I was when I went to bed. Wouldn't trade them in, though.

    ribajuti

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