07/08/2024
Flying
---
“What was your favorite dream as a child?”
It’s a simple question that caught me by surprise. My friend and I were enjoying a staycation day at Great Wolf Lodge with our kids over the long 4th of July weekend. We had just grabbed a two-person tube and sprinted like teenagers up several flights of stairs to the top of the waterslide entrance. We were the only two 40-something moms in the mix, but we didn’t care. The waterslide looked fun, and we were up for an adventure.
The line was short. There were only three or four duos in front of us. And in the few brief minutes while we lingered on the platform, she turned to me and asked me that simple but powerful question.
What was my favorite childhood dream?
I asked her if she meant an ambition or a genuine sleeping-hours dream. She chuckled and responded glibly, “Well, aren’t they really the same?” And then added, “I did mean a dream dream.”
The childlike joviality of our current environment stood in stark contrast to the profound undertone in her little quip. It struck me deeply. But the line was progressing and, I had no time to muse.
I quickly scanned my memories, searching for a pleasant childhood dream. Dreams are not something that I often remember in vivid detail. In fact, I rarely remember the vague details of my dreams. And, when I do, those memories fade as the day progresses and, by nightfall, little remains of the subconscious musings of my resting mind.
So, for one brief moment, I had the tiniest bit of trepidation that I wouldn’t be able to conjure up any memories of dreams from my childhood and, just as I was about to verbalize that thought, something popped into my head.
Flying.
I had had dozens and dozens of dreams as a child where I would take flight and soar over our neighborhood, fly high above the cities and towns of southeastern Michigan.
Although my quick scan and momentary hesitation felt like it had lasted forever, mere moments had passed from the time she had posed the question until the time I answered, excitedly, “Flying!!
“When I was a kid, I had lots of dreams about flying, and I loved them.”
She asked me if would fly between buildings or experience the sensation of flying whilst swimming underwater. I clarified that I would be flying high in the sky with no obstructions or obstacles in my way. Simply enjoying the wind under my outstretched arms and marveling at the scenery below.
She then asked me how I would fly. I told her, “I would take a running leap off of our front porch and just start to fly.”
As I spoke l those words, memories of me, in the days after those dreams, jumping off of the front porch and leaping around our front yard in an effort to do what had felt so vividly real in my dreams, flashed through my head.
“A running leap, hmmm?”
It was clear that my dream was causing all sorts of synapses to fire in her brain. She made a pregnant pause, smiled, and looked me dead in the eyes.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”
A thunderclap reverberated in my soul.
I maintained the eye contact she had initiated, and, in that moment, dangling threads seemed to fuse themselves together into one eloquent narrative.
She was absolutely right.
For years I had been telling people that I just wanted to soar. That I wanted to find the work that spoke to my soul and allowed me to access and use my gifts fully unfettered. To do the most good for the most people. Time and time again, I would be sitting on a zoom call, sharing this deep desire, and, I would stretch my arms out, to their fullest wingspan and feel the feeling.
Flying.
Soaring.
I did it every time. It was almost as though the little child within me could still feel the rush of the wind under my arms, the exhilaration as my feet left the ground, the delight in the journey. And, up until that moment, I hadn’t ever made that conscious connection between my past and my present.
I looked at her with a stunned, half-curious, half-delighted expression and slowly said, “you’re right. I am. I absolutely am.”
The smile on my face broadened.
The twinkle in my eye intensified to a beaming starburst.
It was our turn.
I tucked that newfound awareness into my heart for closer ponderation later, as we rushed into the water to take the plunge, like delighted schoolgirls, down the swirling waterslide.
I’ve always believed that our dreams, the deep desires that we hold in the quietest and most private places of our heart, exist for a reason.
We are never given a dream that it is truly impossible for us to realize in some form or fashion.
We are given dreams to inspire us to reach into all that is possible for us. To embolden us. And the ones that recur the most, that linger the longest, that speak most persistently to us are exact the dreams that are meant to agitate us out of our familiar comfort zone and to begin.
Just as in my recurring dreams of flying, the flight could only happen when I would muster up the courage to take the running leap off the porch.
I couldn’t soar if I didn’t take the leap.
And, on that sunny afternoon, my own definition of dreaming suddenly broadened. I had only ever considered our dreams as the aspirations that fill our waking hours, but, maybe just maybe those aspirations dance in our subconscious minds as well and give us allegories and ideas that the wisdom of our soul knows is true even when the faculties of our conscious mind can’t quite piece the puzzle together.
What are you dreaming of?
What are you ready to leap towards?
06/16/2024
03/29/2024
03/29/2024
02/28/2024
02/27/2024
02/17/2024
02/17/2024
02/17/2024
02/16/2024
01/28/2024
03/01/2023