I remember being little and dreaming of flying. 

It was a frequent dream that I only dreamt of in elementary school.

I would dream of running in the fields during recess. 

I would run so fast that I would take off into flight when I leaped in the air. 

My stomach would drop, but it was a good feeling. 

Blissful even. 

I would amaze my classmates with tricks and spins of all sorts.

I dove downwards toward the ground and pulled up at the last second.

I remember that feeling. 

My friends would ask me to take them with me to fly. 

I remember their giggles and gasps when they stopped feeling the earth below them.

I would wake up in the morning and get dressed for school. 

I’d anxiously wait for recess to come, and I would run and leap onto the swings. 

It was the only feeling that came remotely close to my dream the night before. 

It was never the same. 

I would sometimes imagine running and leaping into flight.

I remember how badly I wanted my dream to come true, but I knew I would be terrified once it happened. 

I knew once my foot left the comfort of solid ground. 

I would cry.

I still wanted to fly, and sometimes I would try.

I would run in the playground and leap off the wooden ledges. 

I closed my eyes and imagined I was flying.  

It was never the same.  

After school, I was a part of the running club. 

I would run for an hour after school with my classmates. 

I remember running up the steep hill at the end of the circle and trying to leap into the air. 

Maybe that time would work. 

It never did, and now I know why. 

Later that night, I would dream once again of flying. 

This time it was after school during running club. 

In my dream, I would be running, leaping, and flying to get ahead of the others. 

I remember having a crush on this one boy at recess. 

In my dream, I would zip around the playground looking for him and laugh when I surprised him. 

I remember flying around trees and feeling the fresh air running through my hair. 

In my dream, I never worried about bugs. 

I remember having these dreams in elementary school.

But I can’t remember when they stopped. 

My dream of flying stopped one unknowing night, and I haven’t dreamed of it again. 

On a roller coaster my siblings and I slowly made our way to the top, and when I saw the sky for a split second. 

I had the feeling.

It was the exact feeling in my dream, but instead, I wasn’t flying.