Dreams of flying

"There is an art, it says, or rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss."

Douglas Adams, Life The Universe and Everything

Seriously, where do dreams of flying come from? As I've discussed before, many aspects of dreams can be explained as a side effect of the brain processing memories or performing self diagnostic tests during downtime, but I'm not sure about flight. We've never flown in real life, so how can we dream about it and why is it (a) such a common dream and (b) for me at least, such a consistent experience from dream to dream?

Freud of course says that flying in dreams represents sex. I'm not sure about that as I've dreamed about flying since before puberty and anyway, if dreams of flying represent sex what do dreams of sex represent?

One of the things I find most fascinating about my flying dreams is that within them I always "remember" that yes, of course I can fly, how could I possibly have forgotten? I tend not to even classify it as flying to be honest; all that happens is that I lift both my feet off the ground at the same time and skim along with my head at normal height. Trying to get any higher is difficult; I can do it after a fashion but if I over-reach myself I come bouncing down and sometimes lose it all together and have to start all over again.

Another aspect of these dreams is that no-one else can do what I do; I usually wonder with amusement how people are going to react when they see me floating along without touching the ground.

But it's the remembering that stays with me after I wake up. It always seems so real that sometimes I am almost convinced that if I could only get it just right, I'd be able to fly in real life. This is quite clearly absurd. But the art, or knack, to flying seems so close sometimes, almost as if it's on the tip of my mind.

What are we remembering when we dream this? It can't be anything in our own lives, and it's unlikely to be a race memory of some kind because none of our ancestors as far as I am aware were capable of flight. Those monkeys that attempted it only managed fairly short and vertical journeys after which they were in no condition to pass on their genes.

Sometimes it seems as if I almost remember being able to fly as a baby, before I knew that it wasn't possible, but that too is absurd.

The only thing that feels remotely right is that it's some kind of reverse memory. In the future we'll live in space stations and low gravity worlds; places that absolutely allow the kind of flying I dream about.

I do hope it's a reverse personal memory rather than a reverse race memory. I want to fly.

Popular posts from this blog

The Weird Case of Weirdcase

Image
This may well end up being one of the oddest and perhaps most anal-retentive blog posts I've ever written, but it's an anomaly I noticed early in life and have never been able to find a satisfactory answer for.  Perhaps unsurprisingly it involves the London Underground tube map. As I've discussed elsewhere the iconic tube map captured my imagination at an early age and it was at this early age that the anomaly itself was in full swing.  It was all to do with the way the stations were labelled. Up until the end of H C Beck's reign as tube map designer the station names on the map were all written in uppercase. Presumably all the better to read you with – although not if you have dyslexia. Unfortunately at that time accessibility wasn't high on the list of London Transport's priorities, as can be seen from the fact no stations had step free access – despite the fact that so many of them had been originally been built with lifts. Nevertheless, the all uppercase pa...
Read more

Talking shit

Image
One of the things people say about me is that I'm quiet. Sometimes this is a criticism, other times not. I've already explained that part of the reason for this is because I find small talk difficult . Well, not just difficult, I find it pointless. If there's something worth discussing, I'm quite capable of amputating the hindquarters of a member of Equus africanus asinus with my garrulousness. Some people just can't help themselves though. As Douglas Adams once said " if they don't keep exercising their lips, their brains start working ". I usually come across them whilst I'm out and about, on public transport or in shops. You can hardly call it eavesdropping; to avoid overhearing these types you really have to be listening to Napalm Death on your iPod. Its incredible just how much you can overhear without picking up any genuine content. It's all filler, conversational fluff designed to prevent the other person getting a word in edgeways and...
Read more

The Invisible Sign

Image
For a long time I was conviced that I was simply rubbish at life. Throw me into a social situation with a whole bunch of humans and I didn't have the first idea how to even begin to attempt to join in. People would seem to collapse into these stable little groups of two or three leaving me floating around like a stray electron. Against my best instincts I often tried attaching myself to these groups but joining in with the conversation was impossible. Besides, I really felt like I was interrupting. It was rude . Even if I did dare to say something I'd get odd looks. I still consider my crowning achievement in this Biggest Outsider Challenge to be when I ended up spending time standing around on my own at the very bash being held for me leaving a job I'd been in for 16 years... Now that was impressive. Of course well-intentioned people kept telling me to try harder, giving me tips and tricks, but nothing really seemed to work. I'd hear variations of "We all feel aw...
Read more