I had a flying dream last night. All i did was fly… not the clumsy sort of treading water or the awkward running leaps from my more usual dreams, but an actual taking off and gliding through the air. It was just every-day life plus flying until 5:27 when my computer fired its warning shot of “My Sharona” to let me know i only had another 4 hours of flying left. And, so, i did.

Walnut Street unexpectedly crests into a hill between 42nd and 43rd, and when i’m walking home at night i close my eyes on the way down and ignore my legs. It’s as close to flying as it is to attempting to be mugged, but it’s all i’ve got.