Last night I had a flying dream. I was in a yellow tinged room and was flying in an upright sitting position directly across the room. Almost as if I was sitting on an invisible chair. I don't think anyone was supposed to know that I could fly, but for some reason I just couldn't help myself.
I only remembered this dream just then, as I was reading Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder and came to part where he demonstrates how our habit can eliminate our sense of wonder. He describes a mother, father and 2 year old son in the kitchen. The father starts flying, and the son simply exclaims 'yay dad is flying' (everything is new and exciting to him) but the mum nearly has a heart attack because she has learned that people can't fly. It would be great to see everything in life as new and exciting and never tire of the wonder of the world and our life. But I think it would also be exhausting. I also think its funny that in all of my flying dreams, I've never been that excited that I could fly. I just kind of accept it and roll with it. /Ramble
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