Skimming the Surface

It’s a little like flying, but it’s more like falling without touching the ground. When I was a child, I did it frequently enough in my dreams that I was convinced I could do it in waking life, too. Perhaps I could.

I’m trying to get somewhere fast in a dream, usually down a hillside. Instead of the frustrating and dreaded molasses-feet dreams, in which my feet won’t move, no matter how hard I will them, in a skimming dream I am so intent on getting where I am going that I stop actually putting my feet on the ground. Momentum carries me down the mountainside and I just keep my feet off the surface, sort of like skiing on air. Last night’s mountainside was really muddy, and I knew I’d get stuck, so I just coasted downhill through the air. It was a little hairy at moments, getting through the trees, and worrying that I might run into a bear.

It was exhilarating, feeling it happen, remembering how to do it with a body-memory similar to riding a bike. This morning, I feel it like I did when I was seven, that inner knowing that I can ski the air. Perhaps it’s a message from my Deep Self that I can slip the leaden bonds of winter, and move through the world again with more grace and ease.

2 thoughts on “Skimming the Surface

  1. I also have these types of dreams. I am usually running and I just push off the ground a bit and I can cover dozens of yards before I need to push off the ground again. In some dreams, I run, then jump into the air and I soar for hundreds of yards. It is a wonderful feeling!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. But I love this. And you revived an old memory … from when I lived in Brooklyn, in Bay Ridge. Place names! It never occurred to me that it was because it’s the highest point in Brooklyn, a ridge that runs on 6th Ave and faces the Narrows. But I remember living between 5th and 6th as a child and running down hill so fast that even before the first tree … there were three stately sycamores on our block … I’d be flying. All I had to do was run fast enough and put out my arms and I’d be gliding all the way to the house, that would be just passed the third tree, and I’d come gently to the sidewalk again, totally exhilarated. But you must know this: I *knew* this happened, not that I’d dreamed it, dreamt of having done it or of someday trying, not that it was a thing I did, I knew it as a thing I do. Years went by, I tried telling people, at first, until I learned to keep it to myself, and then it slipped away like a business card you use as a bookmark in a book you lose interest in you might discover thirty years later when you move, wondering why you kept the book.

    Liked by 1 person

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