“Where would you fly if you could?” she asked.
“What do you mean, “If I could? I can! I can fly anywhere I want. I’ve done it. Hundreds of times,” I reply.
Yeah, yeah. So, what if I can only fly when I’m sleeping, when I’m dreaming? It sure as hell feels real for me every time. When I soar in my dreams, I’m unencumbered by things as hefty, as ungainly, as…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Next Write Thing to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.