Chapter Three

When I was young I dreamt about flying. They always began the same with me running across the field next to our house and as I approached the ditch I'd flap my arms. Of course it was just my arms that lifted me upward, I thought happy thoughts just as Peter Pan taught. I remember waking up and being surprised that my dream self had pulled it off, and a little nervous because that same self was obviously clueless about what was beyond those telephone wires.

These dreams lead to hours of staring out our front window watching the sky as birds flew in and out of view landing on those telephone wires. Eventually I convinced my dream self that some sort of parachute-style device was also needed. My unicorn sheets made the cut and now I could safely leave the ground. I was still nervous to go far but I did explore the neighborhood from the air and always dropped down when I thought my parachute would whisk me away from my mom forever.

Today I sat in the park and saw red, white and yellow crescents floating above the mountain ridge. Paragliders. I watched them until I couldn't, imagining my dream self with the blue and white unicorn sheets among them. A completely freeing thought, an involuntary smile and a crushing blow to the contrast of what I'm working on right now.

I told a friend that I would proof her manuscript. I've actually been in on the process for a while now and have read the rough drafts. I know the story and lived one year of it. I've heard it over dinners sitting across from her intimately at a table for two. I make a guest appearance memoir-style in chapter three. And it still rips my heart to know that her little girl, suffering from RAD (Reactive Attachment Disorder), won't look at the sky when she's 26 and remember dreams of flying away on unicorn sheets.

But hopefully after the intense therapy she's going through she won't dream about abandonment either.