Dreams of Flight
Remember those childhood dreams of flight? For many pilots, these were one of the reasons they chose aviation as a way of life. This was certainly true for me. And if I close my eyes, I can remember them as if it was yesterday...
It is early morning in a strange country. I am standing in the courtyard of a ruined manor. Moss covers the walls, and a faint breeze whispers through the trees in the neglected garden, but otherwise this place is deserted. All seems peaceful, but I feel a sense of disquiet. There is something disturbing about this moldering ruin, and I have no desire to remain. So I turn east to face the rising sun... I exert my will... and suddenly...
...I am flying!
I'm amazed at how easy it seems. How could it have possibly have taken me so long to discover this secret? All I have to do is frame my thoughts in a certain way, concentrate, and the ground drops away! At first the process seems precarious. My thoughts stumble and slide and I seem on the edge of losing the special state of mind that holds me aloft. But with practice my skill and confidence grow until I have time to take stock of my surroundings.
I am high above the Plain of Desolation. Behind me, the Western Country stretches green and fertile toward the Sea of Peace. Below me, the land is empty, barren, and devoid of life. Ahead, the Mountains of Shadow loom distant and threatening on the horizon.
These mountains are my destination. They lie hundreds of leagues away, but this distance is no match for my new-found skill. I exert my will, hurtle through the air, and the land unrolls beneath me.
Strange vistas shift and change like scenery in a dream. I see an oasis, a forest of dead trees, a barren valley flanked by poisoned ruins from some long-forgotten war. I pass over a shattered plain that can only be an ancient battlefield. It is covered with the wreckage of ruined machines of dire and unguessable purpose. The ground itself seems burnt and melted -- in places it has been fused to glass by the passage of unimaginable energies.
After an unknown length of time, I leave the wasteland behind. I have reached the foothills and the land begins to climb beneath me -- dark, green, and somehow ominous. There is life within that forest of shadows, but surely it takes no wholesome form. I do not want to encounter the creatures that live beneath those trees.
Fortunately, there is no need to pass through the forest, for I can fly! The process seems easy by now, and quite natural -- surely this is the way things were always meant to be! I can adjust my flight at will with minute changes in perception and attitude. With but a thought, I can turn, bank, climb, dive, hover, or accelerate. I feel an immense sense of freedom, and I revel in that sensation.
Then, some distance ahead, I see my destination. It stands atop a ridge on the far side of a ruined valley -- a great stone castle. This is no effeminate palace of some bored and idle aristocrat. It is a dark fortress that has withstood ages of warfare. Dim lights shine from the highest windows of the central keep.
I veer right to cross a ridge, drop below the level of the crest, and approach the place with caution, but its walls seem deserted, and no one contests my passage. Emboldened, I climb, and circle the structure to examine it from the air. There is a garden inside the walls. A figure moves within. Somehow I sense that this figure is benign -- an ally, perhaps. It doesn't seem to be a threat, so I descend to land beside it.
The figure turns, and I see it is Princess Danielle. Her golden hair shines in the sunlight, and the thin fabric of her dress clings lovingly to the soft curve of her hips, her slender waist, the rise of her breasts. She turns to smile, raises her moist red lips to mine, and...
...ah yes, those old childhood dreams of flight! They sure were great, weren't they!
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Last modified: 24 September 2009