Okay, maybe lurking primitives can interpret one of franksolich's most-common dreams.
It's the same dream, and I dream it over and over again, never getting tired of it.
I'm standing somewhere, like on the edge of a porch or the top of the William Rivers Pitt, and the scenery is so awesome, so overwhelming, so joyous, I leap down from my perch, to the ground.
But much to my surprise, when I hit the ground, I bounce back up into the air.
I spread my arms, and much to my amazement, find myself flying. I soar, I coast, I float, through the air.
Oh wow. I can fly.
I fly through the air, over the treetops, circling, nose-diving, going up, turning, twisting.
It's as effortless as strawberries-and-cream, floating through the air.
I'm really excited; I can fly.
That's the way it is most of the time, and alas there's no one else around to see me, to join me.
But once in a while, as I soar over the meadows, when I look down, I see a bunch of primitives shaking their fists at me and yelling, really ugly and malicious expressions on their faces.
Now, I can't hear, and have no idea what they're saying to me. So I coast down lower, so as to get their body-language.....and crash into a tree.