aWaKE iN tHe dReAM
Sometimes I sleep and dream, sometimes I'm awake in the dream.
In my other life I fly....
Not powered flight and not with arms uselessly flapping about like a flightless emu but instead using my body to silently glide the air currents.
I've never seen myself launch so don’t even ask how it is I get amongst the clouds, one hell of a run and jump I’m guessing (grin).
But as peaceful as it might sound I always have trouble with the turns and my body strains in my bed as I use muscles that are needed to maintain the height of this unauthorized flight-path over the town's rooftops and gardens.
Gliding, soaring, I clip the young green sprigs of the tree-tops scattering birds and branches and a spiral of leaves are whipped up by the jet-stream behind me.
As the buildings of Main Street loom closer I strain all the harder. Its like trying to turn the giant Russian Antonov on a penny, you can will it and ..will it and with the effort I’m pressing my face harder and ..harder into my pillow.
I feel my tired weight, its slow and heavy and my whole body is tense with the strain. I can feel the warm space between the thermal and falling out of the sky.
I'm approaching the exit of this last turn and I begin to relax and can feel the warm space between the thermal mattress and the weight of the covers.
Illusion. I obsess over it and don't mean the illusion of religion, state or society because these are just the layers of man. In street photography an author might want to tell you the state of affairs in their world but I don't care for this either. I don't add to the man-made lies. I'm drawn to the illusion that chance creates in natural things, that truth is the perfect lie.
Its like a parallel life where in one you sleep and dream and in the other you are awake in the dream.
It’s thrilling to skirt the trees and I risk everything by flying so close and so fast. I’ve never clipped a building but my landings are not textbook unless you are reading Airport ’74.
Salt Lake... Salt Lake! This is Columbia 409! This is Nancy Pryor... stewardess.
Something hit us! All the flight crew is dead or badly injured!
Theres no one left to fly the plane!
Help us! Oh God, help us!
ɹǝpun uʍop puɐl ǝɥʇ ɯoɹɟ