by Charles Miller on November 17, 2006

Last night, I dreamt I could fly.

A part of me knew I was dreaming. I climbed onto the window-ledge, felt the wind blowing, and jumped into the Sydney skyline. I wasn't so much flying as gliding, a controlled fall, the air rushing around me, stopping my plummet, holding me up as I swept across the sky. It was truly exhilarating.

I believed that anything I collected while I was dreaming would be waiting for me in the morning, back in the waking world. So I landed on roof of one of the big department stores in the city (the computer and electronics department, luckily, is on the top floor).

Back on the roof, trying to gather my swag together for the flight home, I felt guilty. This was stealing, after all. I packed my stolen goods back into their respective boxes and put them back. So now I'll never know if, when I woke up, they'd really have been there still.

In some other part of the night, I was hanging out with the Australian cricket team.

In my dreams I can fly, but I still can't bat or bowl to save my life.

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