For years, ever since I can remember, really, I’ve had a variation of the same dream. The locations change in the dream as does the exact scenario, but there are always three constants: I am battling some force of evil (the degree of evilness varies), I can fly (sometimes of my own accord and sometimes by use of an aid, such as a broom), and there are Roman soldiers.
Yes, I know, you don’t have to say anything. I have a seriously strange mind. I accepted that fact long ago. Once acknowledged, everything else just seems to make more sense.
I can’t tell you the first time I had this dream or the last. I only know that when I have this dream it’s like a warm blanket on a chilly day. I know I am in a world I have been in many times before and I am in control of everything. I can soar among the trees, scale buildings and cross great waterways. The general public doesn’t always trust me, but comes to grudgingly respect me after I save their hides… again. And I can always count on the Roman soldiers for help (after I rescue them, of course, for they are all POWs to whatever witch or evil force I am battling).
The only thing I have never been able to explain is how my child mind came up with this in the first place. My mother was pretty seriously religious and I don’t think I was introduced to a lot of the concepts in these dreams until I was at least old enough to go to school (especially the concept of the misunderstood mystic overcoming the dogmatic fears of the general population). And I know for a fact I started having these dreams prior to school because I woke up from it once in the apartment we used to live in.
The only possibility is perhaps my grandfather started my education to counterbalance religion earlier than I remember. He never said anything against religion, just made sure I was presented with stories and scenarios that taught me to always have an open mind and ask questions rather than simply accepting statements made by authority figures as fact. I wouldn’t put it past him to have started much sooner than I can consciously remember.
Regardless of how it came to be, I continue to enjoy this dream well into adulthood. My only wish is that I could spend more time flying and less time battling whatever it is I have to battle that particular night. Flying is sweet.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Just a Dream.”
Image originally posted here.