Memoirs of a Frequent Flier
It was in the spring of 1953 when I first realized that I could fly. It had been coming on by degrees—first in dreams, where I would hold my arms straight out, crucifixion style, and then pump them straight up and down until I rose from the ground to float through the air, feet hanging straight down below me, swimming through the air propelled by those pumping arms.
In the dreams, no one ever noticed me. Not the other kids playing “New Orleans” in my yard below me, not my dad out mowing the grass or my mom hanging clothes on the line. Birds flew by in their usual manner without changing their course, whizzing by so close to my ears that I became convinced that I was invisible to all nature–man and beast.
I was never stung by mosquitos when I was in flying mode, and for some reason, even during that long summer two years later when I was eight years old and flying every day, it never rained when I was flying. A few times the first raindrop fell just as my feet came into contact with the ground and I had to shift my mind to remember how to move my legs to propel myself and avoid getting soaked to the skin by one of those July rainstorms so dreaded by farmers trying to get their summer wheat crop combined before the heavy rain, or even worse, hail.
Hail! What would happen if it were to hail while I was flying? Would I be able to soar above the hail—to watch it fall to the earth below me–a wall of white water stones creating themselves just inches below my toes and falling straight down away from me? Could I see them forming? Turning to ice where seconds before there had been nothing, each one of millions a little miracle in itself?
I don’t remember how old I was when I stopped flying. All I can remember is one day remembering that I used to fly, long before, and wondering if the whole experience of that long summer when I was eight and less frequently in the years afterwards were just memories stitched together from dreams. Like so many other things, I can remember clearly when they began but have no memory of when they stopped. Perhaps they haven’t. Perhaps only the memory of this talent unique to me has faded, daily, as soon as my feet touch earth.
But I wonder, in these days of drones so easily and cheaply purchased on the internet, if flight such as mine has become an impossibility. With more people looking up at the sky, what is my likelihood of avoiding being noticed and if I were noticed, what effect would it have on my life? All the news agencies would call. Then Oprah and perhaps even the president. Perhaps Donald Trump would call wanting to make me into a reality show. Perhaps I’d be encouraged to launch a blog penned from above. How high up does Wi-Fi go, I wonder, and would I have to attach a Wi-Fi antenna to a beanie on my head and post the blog orally as both hands would be necessary for my flight, to prevent my plummeting to earth?
No, better that this miracle of flight be left behind with other marks of my adolescence: pimples and wet dreams and all those insecurities of coming of age. Perhaps they were what prompted my need to raise myself above it all. Now that I am well past being fully matured and in fact have embarked on that course that will eventually result in my sinking back into that earth I once rose above, I can make do with pleasures of that earth—chocolate and fresh ripe figs and a 5 o’clock Martini enough to raise me above the norm. And that truth that once I was unique is enough to assure that I still am—here in my Barclay Lounger with my New Yorker Magazine, my feet up on the step stool and commands that I can give through air simply by a push of the finger via remote control. Checking in to Oprah to see who she has found to fill my place this week. Keeping my secret. Knowing how thrilled she would have been. Rating my potential story against theirs. And in my own mind, I know that I would rise above them all.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
You always soar, Judy. Floating or flying, though, really both achieve that same freeing feeling.
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I love the idea of your being able to fly, unseen by people or animals, and to see from above what was there. And what a shame when it suddenly came to an end!
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I love this story Judy. I wonder if we all flew when we were children?
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I flew too. I remember when I stopped because it was the year I started school. I was halfway between four and five and suddenly, I couldn’t fly anymore. Isn’t that strange? I remember flying and I remember that one day, I couldn’t. I thought I was the only one.
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Did you hold your arms straight out shoulder height beside you and pump them up and down?
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No. I just held my arms in the air and rose, then landed wherever I wanted to be. No pumping, but it was flying. I even remember seeing the world from above. Isn’t that odd? Are we the only ones? Can children fly — maybe only mentally — and lose that ability when they get a little bit older?
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Your story is great. I flew for a year when I was 12. It started with an out of body experience when I was being operated on. No flapping though. ☺
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Wow, what a fabulous post, thank you for taking part.
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A wonderful dream, well written, Judy. I liked your “wall of white water stones”
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Just imagine if you could fly above a hailstorm, watching it happen from above. What fun. The water pellets must swirl around to form the round shapes…I’ve never read anything about this and I guess I prefer to imagine it.
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Mesmerizing! I just LOVE this post!
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Surprising how many responders have said they, too, flew. Did you?
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I went through a period as a kid dreaming I was nearly weightless, and could jump from treetop to treetop, usually with some sinister folks trying to catch me.
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I love the idea of jumping from treetop to treetop. That is a new one…but not of the sinister ones in pursuit.
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I remember those flight dreams well…and riding my bike so fast, that I felt I was flying.
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Ha.. there were more of us up there than I knew!!!!
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We had unpaved streets in my town so hard to ride one’s bike very fast…In the winter when they were snow-covered, sledding down them could be fun, though!
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Better yet, if the yards iced up, I remember skating
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We don’t all give up on the flight, some of us actually progress~!. Mine was putting my hand out of the back seat window of our car and tilting it up and down for lift. And later after I actually really learned to fly a plane, I sometime still pull back a little on the steering wheel for takeoff~!
But you gave a much better explanation of it, because when little, I was always horizontal~! (Like Superman)~! So you must have had a better imagination than me. Did I ever tell you about how Pete Fountain broke his arm while trying to fly off our front gallery with a towel tied around his neck~?
What happened to mine is that as I got older it has turned into almost perfect virtual reality..and it still works pretty good~! It always takes place late at night while lying in bed, and half asleep, my almost blank mind can take me almost any place I desire~!. And I don’t need hallucinogenic drugs to do it.
When closing my eyes and letting my mind go almost blank, into a half dream state, I can take my body “virtually” to another place, to visit an old girl friend, or the love of my life, and also to see a place where I have been and still love to return to. I also like to visit other people, even those I have only met on the internet~!.
I did try to visit you once or twice but was never completely able to find your home, I know that there is a domed church and the tennis club down hill from your house and I see a rough, over grown, hill above you, but that actual house is still not yet completely visible to me, the background noise of neighbors may be throwing me off. I did find one with a hammock slung under a little thatched gazebo in a beautiful manicured garden with a tall palm tree, but you were not there at the time. Maybe I was close though, there was a dog standing on the roof~!
It is sometimes sad when some of us let the complexity of life take away the beautiful imagination of our youth~! But You definitely will feel it when I fly over, a cold chill or shiver will pass through your body and you will know that I must be nearby, watching~! Keep the dogs from barking, though, because that sometimes upsets the vibes~!
HA~!
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It sounds like you were in the right place at the incorrect time, Sam. I read the flying piece at a public reading today and asked how many had ever flown? Half the audience raised their hands. I was surprised. Your levitation adventures are very original.. especially the one where you took the car with you!!!!
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Love this one.
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I bet we all have flying dream/stories/memories, Judy. Mine came late in life and were short lived. I loved your story and yes, I can see you as Oprah’s guest, beguiling her with your stories as you do all of us.
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Sweet dreams! I flied a lot just before graduating from College! Running through green fields of lush grass, arms up & blue skies ahead!!!
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