The gift of dreams

Someone at work brought in peaches from their backyard, and that made the memory of the dreams I was having last night flash back in great detail.

I dreamed I was riding a large, strong gray horse. He was galloping fast over fields and then we were surging uphill, towards the foothills of a great mountain. When we slowed down to stop, we were surrounded by peach trees. The peaches were golden and dewy and shimmering, practically glowing. I spun around looking at all the beautiful trees and their fruit and the sun was glinting in that special way that it does on a late summer day.

I was so overwhelmed with a feeling of joy and wonder that I lifted right off the ground. And in that moment, I felt amazed that I was levitating but there was also the click of memories falling into place. Oh right! I can fly! I had completely forgotten! Thank goodness I remembered!

This happens to me so much in my dreams. I suddenly remember something amazing or wonderful, and I feel so silly for having forgotten about magic, for having forgotten that I can do magical things. Silly me, I forgot I could fly! I think it's a metaphor for depression. I wallow around in it for years and then have an epiphany: oh right, life can be much different than this pit. I forgot.

In my dreams, I usually can levitate, but not fly. This dream was different. At first I was having trouble getting very far off the ground, but then I saw other people floating around the peach grove, so I knew I could do it too. I shifted around and started getting my balance. Oh right, I remember now: lean forward to go up, lean back to do down. Arms out for steering. It was a great feeling.

I'm so glad that dreams exist and that I occassionally get nice ones. What a great gift, really. Perhaps there is a little magic left in the world after all. I am so glad the office peaches jogged my memory. I feel happy now.