As a little boy, I could fly in my dreams. Not swooshing about, like Superman, but I would float and swim to the top of cathedral-like spaces. The people in my dreams had to pull me to the ground with a long pole. The dreams were so vivid, and the feeling was so intense, that I was confused by the reality upon waking. I can picture some of those dreams even now (I have an impression of one of these spaces as a huge brick-built warehouse or workshop, yet I can't imagine that I would ever have been inside a building like this at that age). I read that psychologists interpret dreams of flying as being about sex. They weren't, I was a little boy.

They were about being able to fly.

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