in the park. i think of the front of he [ard as that there the school, as north, even though in grown up terms its ________. And I'm in the north east corner as I've confused east and west up too.
That's the side near the street. brookdale park. who was brookdale? they never told us.
i'm in the park, looking across the vast miles of grass. i fly up over the ground, in that effort i first remember making back when i was a kid, when this was my landscape.
i fly down to the other corner as fat as i can, like the wind. i want to be like the wind.
there is a baseball diamond there, and swings. and anomalously, a table. several bowls, glass, with water and a small goldfish in in each. one is a bit yellower, and anyoher brighter gold than the rest. and the jars look like the sort kids would find to create pretend gold fish bolds, real ones.
I think that i should take them with me. its summer, the kids won't feed the fish. but i decide they'll die either way. i don't bother doing anything.
i fly back north to teh north west corner of the park. and stop dead.
i'm at the bottom of the park really. i think its the south end, and wha is really hapening is that coming here had all been downhill. a gradual slope leads up in all directions. i can see high points, with better views of the entire park. maybe i'll try those.
an apartment building several blocks away is too scary a hirght to fly too. there's also a mound closer by that seem high enough tooversee half the park effectively. i begin to fly, and another realization strikes me. I haven't been getting exercise while flying. i'm going to run. this is the first timei've ever chosen not to fly.
it feels good to race uphill, against the wind. i'm going as fast as i would have flying. flying is hard, effortful. it takes all my will power. running though is just physical and my legs pump without a thought from me. perhaps i ahd this wrong. after so long now, a doubt? it feels good.
and i run past the swings and the other toys there. and stop again, again screaming. what now. i don't know why I'm screaming. it's like that part of the park is the worst place in the world. horrible evil has been there.
i think this is ridiculous. i don't really belive those stories of adults 30 years later suddenly recalling theirhorrible rapes and beatings as children. this part of the park acts towards me like that though. i rationalize that its the normal childhood trama's of not running fast enough to ever get a swing during recess that lingers here still. [i wonder what those fastest kids are doing now?]
a knock at the door, and another and i'm awake.
there was more with people and me flying around again in the dream. but the people were local to this time, and the location was filled with donut stores and my sister and snow diving.
then i flew to the park.