Spring's first thunderstorm rolled through today. Sporadic booms and lightning flashes peppered the afternoon. Globular missiles of rain pelted the ground. I find it intriguing that raindrops have diverse sizes.
I anticipate thunderstorms, even long for them. Unlike many people I know, I've never been frightened by them.
While I sat with an idling engine, I watched a jet liner climb into the sky heading straight for a massive, steel-grey nimbus cloudbank. It was like seeing a sparrow fly into a dragon's gaping maw.
I actually enjoy flying through storms, despite the discomfort of turbulence. I've wished for a long time for some means by which I could make the clouds my home. I love the shape of clouds, their constant fluidity and movement, the endless varieties in which they manifest. I feel a new story coming on.
My brother and I have shared many conversations about the different forms of flying dreams we have. Mine always require that I have a running start for take off. Sometimes in the dreams I'm me, human yet capable of flight, at others I'm a bird. Once I was a swan, in another dream a seagull.
Flying dreams have been among my most profound and I leave them waking into a state of bemused contentment, as if through the dream I've touched something profound.
What do dreams do for you?
Nice vivid imagery. If you write something involving clouds or flying or thunderstorms, I definitely want to read it.
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