Flight of mind

Light blue wrapping paper fills the sky slit by the silvery point of a stiletto jet drawing a straight white puffy line.. An exclamation point 7 miles up. Entrails of contrails exhausting aft. Comet, can you see me seeing you?

Flight is visceral. You stuck your flattened hand out mom’s car window at speed and felt the lift and slice of air rudders. In your mind's eye you move your arm-wings. Lean to turn. Dive and feel the G’s. Eyes see life in miniature below. Escape velocity levitates me now soaring. I am a bird... above the burdens for a while.

According to Jung, our Dreams are archetypal libraries of our collective past experiences, therefore we have flown before. I love flying dreams... the view from above…skimming over the trees reaching up with branches like outstretched arms inviting me to rest. Watching the clouds flow by like water... suspended in atmospheric soup. Must climb higher. --James
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