I dreamed that I returned to the home that I grew up in, and was surprised to see that the tree swing on the side of the house was still there. Now, I’m pretty sure it was taken down years ago, but in my dream it was still there. The swing hung by a single yellow rope that passed through a hole on each end of a 2 x 4 “seat” then joining back up with the rope again a few feet up. This formed a triangle with the three sides being the seat on the bottom and two ropes that you could hold on to as you sat on the swing.
The swing was quite high off the ground. So unless someone was there to push you it was difficult to do anything other than spin in place. I would lie across it like superman or hang from it with my knees bent over the seat. But mostly, I would hold the board with both hands and run. I would run until the rope would reach its limit and then my feet would come off the ground and I would be flying. If I ran in an arc I could then soar around the yard in a circle – just missing the house on one side and the trunk of the tree on the other. The birds-of-paradise plants in my mother’s garden box would nod their approval as my feet kicked through the air overhead.
In my dream, the current owner of the property was a friend of the family who gave me permission to look around or do whatever. I walked over and looked closer at the old swing. It was now quite worn – as if many hands had repeated the same acrobatic maneuvers that I had invented.
I couldn’t resist placing my hands on the well-worn hand holds and was amazed that my now bigger hands seemed to fit perfectly.
I felt exhilarated.
Before I knew it, my heavy tired body was flying again – bending my knees as I passed the tree – kicking my legs to change directions – soaring over the plants. Tears streamed from my eyes and watered the grass below as I circled and circled the yard.
I never stopped flying.