on flying

Lucid dreaming has been a recurring topic for me in years past. For those in need of a definition, imagine suddenly snapping to and realizing you are in the middle of a dream—not waking up, just becoming cognizant of the dream state. Worlds of possibilities arise. Safely rehearse pickup lines on imaginary bar goers, fearless of real rejection. The Porsche you’ve been coveting is in your garage, and it’s time for its afternoon drive. With the mere thought, pick up and fly, superman-style. There are websites dedicated to helping people dream lucidly. In years past, I’ve tried to go down that road. First step is to train yourself to wake up post dream state and take notes. I got that far, but have not yet followed through—google the topic to learn more for yourself.

See, a lot of what attracted me to dreaming lucidly was the notion of being able to fly, fearlessly, naked if that’s on my agenda. The website teaches a few techniques, among them flapping your arms like a chicken or taking a deep breath and simply lifting off the ground. Irrespective of dreaming, I’ve been flying recently. Well, sort of. Done properly (which the past week of awesome classes and practice has allowed me), scuba diving is flying, underwater. And so  here I am, in this underwater world, floating higher on inhalation (not that kind of high, and not that kind of inhalation, though the nitrogen in your air will get you high if you dive deep enough), descending a bit on empty lungs. I still hope to start flying in my dreams.