I still have the dream.

I still have the dream, not often now, time passes and I forget, then deep in sleep it returns to play out a familiar scene. I’m standing in an open space; arms stretched wide and head tilted to the sky. The ground begins to turn around me and falls away as I spiral upward, slowly at first then faster I speed toward the clouds.

Spinning madly my fingers catch the air and play a symphony as gently as wind chimes on a quiet morning. Soon within the great white rolling hills of mist I am hidden from the world, but upwards I go spinning faster and faster creating patterns in the clouds. Then suddenly I am above a vast landscape of white and grey, and still I spin.

Before me now a deep blue sky that darkens as I rise, here and there a star appears as if to light my way, my mad race upward slows and I look upon the earth and everything I left behind. My spin is now a gentle turn and I can see forever, with just a thought I can direct my path to anywhere I please. I can travel thousands of miles in the blink of an eye. Cross-continents in a second and see all that the world has.

The dream comes to an end as suddenly I begin to fall, all power of flight lost I spin madly to save myself from crashing to the ground, faster and faster I spin desperate to regain control. But its hopeless I tumble toward the earth and my death. Then I wake up, its morning, it’s always morning.

I need to stay off the gin.