Heavy Air — Oversized Tee

You wake up with a complete understanding of how to fly. There was a movement involved, something between stepping off a curb and remembering a name, and for several glorious hours your sleeping mind found this sufficient. You could choose the height. You could slow down. At one point you went back because you had forgotten a bag. Even your most extravagant dreams expect you to keep track of your belongings.

By breakfast the movement is gone. You try describing it to someone, but the explanation becomes less useful with every hand gesture. They ask whether you had wings. No. They ask whether you were in a plane. This is an insulting reduction of the available information. You were simply able to do it, and the dream had the good manners to carry on without a demonstration.

The feeling stays longer than the instructions. On the way out you put on the big tee and choose the brighter of the two things lying beside it. Outside, there is a strip of blue between the roofs, and for a second you remember exactly how unremarkable it felt to be above them.

Later, your friend says they dreamed about missing a train. You tell them that you could have helped, had either of you possessed the necessary contact details. They ask whether you can still do it. You say you are having some trouble with the part immediately after leaving the ground.

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