Flying

Any time I get to fly in my dreams, I love it. It's the best. So when I do fly in my dreams, I get overly excited about it.

The other night in my dream, a siege was ending or beginning for a city (I don't really remember and definitely don't care), and "they" (good guys this time) were looking for a group of criminals posing as guards or something. Well, from my bird's-eye view (though not flying yet) I spotted them, and was assigned to check out "the green house." It was glowing in a way that would have seemed odd, ordinarily. But this was a dream.

Anyway, I approached the house and walked in (as I was told) to find a man pointing a shotgun at me. After a brief and mild altercation, I submitted and backed out the door. However, he was still bent on increasing the amount of lead in my body, so I took off... literally. I flew away (though this didn't seem to surprise the armed man), but he took a shot at me. Deciding to play dead, I flopped to the ground. When he radioed that he had hit me, I took off again, dodging his BB's of protest. From then on I simply flew, wary that he might follow.

At some point during my flight over wonderful landscapes, I realized that I was dreaming. There's something spectacularly freeing about being aware of your unconscious state and having not a care in the world.

That's it. I just really like flying is all.