Red Winged Black Bird on a fence post in a field.

Flight of Fancy


Category: General

The house my family lived in when I was three was a humble little thing. There were only fourteen rooms, if you don?t count bathrooms, basement rooms, closets, or entry hall. Still, there seemed to be something mystical about the place.

Some days I would go to the third floor and into the little room in front. We didn?t keep anything in there except for a few musty, old boxes. I would sit on one of the smaller boxes and look out the windows at the orderly rows of pines that started a little way from the house and ran all the way to the road. The wind through the trees and the windows whispered me to dreamy fantasies. I was a strange toddler.

I slept in a large room. Being rather spoiled, I slept in the same room as my parents. Of course, my bed time was much earlier than theirs. One night, they put little Bobby in his footy pajamas and put him on the full sized mattress. The light went out and they pulled the doors together to shut out the light of the adjoining room.

The rules were quite clear about getting up out of bed. Such activity was not allowed without really good reason, such as going to the bathroom (very encouraged, that one). Still, I didn?t want to get in trouble. That came to play one particular evening.

The doors had been closed for a while, but I could still hear the television in the distance. Adjusting to the dark allowed my eyes to see the walls of the room. I could make out the trim around the door. The corners where the walls met the ceiling were very clear. There was almost a subtle blue glow in the room.

My fascination with the light in the corners grew. I got up in my playful, toddler way and moved to the lights. The wall had its normal, semi-rough texture. The ceiling though, it was very rough. I pushed against it and rolled to look across the room. The light fixture in the ceiling came into view. I could see the light bulbs.

The roll continued until I could see the bed below me. The realization that I was flying flooded my little brain. I zoomed to the area directly above the doors. After pausing to catch my breath, I raced across the ceiling to the other wall. A three-year-old?s giggle burst out of my mouth.

I covered my mouth with my hand and stared at the doors. If anyone heard me, I would get in trouble for being out of bed. Certainty of discovery filled me. I glanced back at my body still on my bed. Pushing away from the ceiling, I dashed back to corporeal existence.

On the bed, I lay still, frightened that an angry parent would slide those door open and be upset with my shenanigans. The subtle blue glow slowly faded to the regular darkness. The tingling in my lower belly slowly subsided. I drifted off to sleep.

Over the years, I?ve send and done some mighty strange things. Never again have I had the occasion to take flight like I did that night so many years ago.

Comments (7)
You gotta pick the right guy to do the job.
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Mime is an unspeakable act.