On My Toes

The wind propped me up onto my toes.


I spun, pulling my arms to my chest, and danced on the currents, barely touching the grass beneath me. It continued to push forward on my upper half. I followed it, my movements fluid and quick. I lifted my legs up as if assisted and my palms touched the earth. I flipped, landing on the pads of my feet. My speed picked up. I spun, I rolled. I braced my elbows at my sides and finally came to a stop, a smile lighting up my face, the wind tossing my hair over my cheekbones in an affectionate goodbye. Then, as that world blinked out, I awoke in my bed once more...


I have dreams about flying -- no, gliding is a more appropriate word. I have dreams about moving with the wind, never lifting much higher than 12 feet and with little control. The wind will pick me up like a kite and I follow it in whichever direction it pleases. Then, there are those few moments, where I feel like I'm in control, just a little bit. I'll want to go higher and I move my arms like a bird. It's shaky and the anxiety that I feel -- What if I fall? What if the wind stops? -- is very real in my heart. Or I'll turn my body because I've gone too far from my initial spot, wishing to return, and it seems as though the wind obliges, changing directions for me.
The dreams that I have never really contain much premise. There was one a long while ago where I was trying to escape from somewhere. There were walls of heavy metal chains. I couldn't climb them but I knew more than anything that I needed to be on the other side. The wind saved me, gracefully lifting me over them. It carried me through and above trees, then deposited me among foothills. People were chasing me, firing guns in my direction, when the wind lifted me once more. I never went very far, but I knew I was safe. The more I think about it, it's almost like the wind was teasing the people who were after me. It would drop me, they'd find me, think they had me, then I would disappear again, all at a leisurely pace.   
The skies were a soft red in that dream. The trees were ash grey... The more I think about it now, the more it reminds me of my old driveway back in Texas, when I lived in Kilgore. The dream that I had this morning was set in an open field with trees and brush scattered throughout. The sky was a peach color and the clouds were white with a tint of blue. When it started, I was helping a group of people hold down a giant balloon. They tried to get it to catch on the wind, but it just wouldn't fly. Then, as if to tease them all, the wind lifted me. From there, the dream transitioned and the people disappeared. It was just me, gliding, being rolled around like a die in the sky's playful hand. When the world of the waking called on me, it was time to land. The people were back but the balloon was gone and I think I laughed, a sound that was light and cheery.


I don't exactly want to fly, but when I have these dreams, I wish I could do this. I wish I could play with the wind, be a sylph for a day. It's inspiring. I always wake up feeling fresh and excited. Inspired, even. That's why I had to write about them this morning. I wonder if these dreams have any meaning. Maybe not like Freud's idea of meaning, but a more personal meaning. I've always loved the sky and that seems to be one of the big details in these dreams. It's always a different color and almost paints the mood. Trees -- who doesn't love trees? Don't tell me you don't love trees, you blasphemers out there. I know you want to. Trees don't like you either. Go away. The wind is like a friend to me and I always feel this deep-rooted connection with it.
In fact, back when I had my old blog, I wrote about a time when I found peace within myself: I was in Kilgore -- like that dream with the red sky -- and things were beyond hard for me. I was exhausted and I had just been cleaning out an old RV for my aunt's boyfriend. It was one of those few moments where I could sit back and breathe, when I knew she wouldn't call me inside for whatever reason. At first I was uneasy with the idea of relaxing. I hadn't done it in a year. Then, something inside of me clicked -- and a cool breeze swept over the yard. I took a deep breathe in... and felt good for the first time in such a painfully long time.
I don't know what it is about the wind, but I've always loved it. When I was a kid, I would go outside and lay on the porch, staring at the sky, listening to the doves on the power lines, cars driving by, planes flying over, people talking. I would sing into it, talk to it, send my worries away on it, or messages to others. I knew they'd never get them, but I did it anyway. The sky has always been important to me too. I remember when I first moved away, the thing that I missed the most was the sky. Where I lived, there was pollution in the air, so thick that it distorted how the sky looked. When I got back to Florida, that was the first thing I looked to. I take pictures of it all the time, actually, haha. Especially in the Winter.


Maybe I'll post some pictures on here, occasionally. 


Speaking of which! I need to get to work on some designs for Geared to Oblivion! They're an up and coming band with a great personality. They don't have anything recorded right now, but you should totally keep an eye on them. (:


I hope you've enjoyed this excursion

just beyond the grey.

Can't wait to see you next time!

Blessed be.

Humbly, 

Shannon Grey