LOSS
I think a lot about loss these days. There are so many different kinds. Death is the big one, the loss of someone you loved. But there is also loss of mobility, loss of perspective. Loss of sleep. You can lose control, lose your sense of self. You can lose a friend during an argument over politics. You can lose your appetite. You can lose touch. You can lose hope. You can lose your hair. You can even lose your mind, although that is mostly a phrase we throw around. When I was young I had two recurring dreams. They stopped a long time ago. I consider that a loss.
The first was my flying dream. We’ve probably all had more than one flying dream. Mine were rather humble. I did not soar into the sky, arms outstretched, and look at the earth far below. I did not zoom around mountains or skim the tops of forests. If you can picture a balloon with a small leak slowly drifting to the ground and then reverse it, that’s the way I flew, in a sort of bobbing upward motion that ended at the ceiling. There was always a ceiling, but it was pretty high. Like in a church.
That it limited my progress didn’t matter. What mattered was that I could fly at all.
The other recurring dream was the one where you stumble on a room in your house, a room you’ve never seen before, a room you hadn’t even known existed! Just standing in there doing nothing, your whole body trembles, because suddenly anything is possible! There are many powerful physical feelings, but awareness of limitless possibility? That’s my favorite.
I can bear the loss of these dreams, but I miss the magic. I could use a little magic. I wish those dreams would show up again so I could get out of here, fly a little, maybe refresh my memory for what’s possible.. I’m not greedy. I’d settle for once in a while. Once in a while goes a long way.
Thank you for sharing. I used to stand in my backyard as a boy (awake) and tell myself how god said if you had faith of a mustard seed, you could do anything. So I would take my little faith and run for it... dive into the air, hoping. I told god I wouldn't tell anyone if he'd let me fly. I made a promise. So maybe I can and just can't say anything. Or maybe your sweet story just reminded me of my story of flight. I understand that kind of strange, dreamy loss. There's sweetness to it. And I wish I could go back... 6:00 in the evening, my backyard... after the siren rang out, and make a run for it. The feeling of that faith was enough faith to last me through all the different versions of faith I'd find throughout my life. Thank you for your words, Abigail. I love reading your work.
If I could, I would send you dreams, wings, air, a brush against the moon. Then you would return to earth and tell us all about it, spectacularly, gifting us a notoriously excellent final line in the process.