Flying Dreams by Kamalla Rose Kaur

Spring 2001

Anna spent last night flying.

“It was so wonderful! I was really upset when I woke up and had to land. What do you suppose flying dreams mean?”

“Freud thought they were sex dreams” I told her and I laughed at the face she made at me, “but then Freud thought almost every dream experience and symbol was about sex.”

“Victorian old goat!” Anna declared.

“I think flying dreams are spiritual dreams myself.” I assured her. “So did Carl Jung for what it is worth. Flying dreams grace us with such an elevated, soaring, freeing and ecstatic experience.”

“Yes, it was so very wonderful; like how spiritual liberation must feel.” Anna sighed.

This set me to thinking about dreams and about flying and about liberation and what it all might mean, as Ken and I drove up a bumpy dirt road a few hours later. How beautiful it was today! The forest was thick with spring foliage, soft and fluffy in every shade of green, accented with yellow and pink and purple wild flowers. Birds and bugs were singing praise to the Creator/Creation in full voice. And when we finally made it to the top of the coastal hill, and sat together on the cliff overlooking the blue waters of Puget Sound far below and the islands beyond, the golden sunshine poured down over us feeling far better than any intoxicant imaginable. I was completely filled with gratitude to the whole wondrous world spread before me.

Ken clearly was feeling the same. He expressed his thankfulness and praise, musician that he is, by playing a hand drum.

“Kamalla” he murmured suddenly, while his hands continued dancing out a wondrous pattern. I looked into his eyes and he looked up, and I looked up as well.

There in the pure blue sky was an eagle circling above us. Actually she was gliding, huge wings perfectly outstretched and still. She floated down the mountain, catching the thermals off the forested cliffs, soaring upwards and then gently gliding around and down – and then, seemingly effortlessly, she soared back up again.

I was deeply disappointed when a big jeep came roaring up the road. It is so easy to give praise and feel gratitude to the Divine when life is perfect and pure. But big noisy red 4 wheel drive vehicles disturbing my peace and pleasure do not always seem to be part of God’s Plan – even though I know that all things come fromCreator/Creation.

Fascinatingly enough, however, we soon realized that the long bagged tube that was strapped to the roof of the red jeep was a hang glider! Out of the jeep jumped a tall blond handsome man with designer sunglasses. His wife, or maybe it was his girlfriend, stayed in the jeep.

“Hello!” he greeted us as he marched over to the cliff, “what a wonderful day!”

I greeted him back and Ken nodded but kept right on drumming, and the eagle flew in closer for a moment, as if she were curious as well.

“Great! Wind is just right!” the intruder declared as he gazed down over the vista. Then he marched back to his jeep and un-strapped the long tube. I watched, much amazed, as the man busied himself unfolding and building his wings. The hang glider was quite large but he told me, when I asked, that it only weighed sixty-five pounds.

It seemed no time at all before this man, harnessed to his wings simply ran right off the side of the cliff and soared off over the waters, playing with the same thermals that the eagle had; though the eagle had now disappeared. The red jeep roared back down the mountain – the woman quickly driving off, I assumed, to meet her flying partner in a pasture far below.

Ken and I watched the hang glider fly just like we had watched the eagle. And suddenly the words of Guru Tegh Bahadur (found in the Sikh scripture) popped into my mind:

“A dream or a show, know that the world is so; says Nanak, save for the Almighty One, there is nothing real here.”

Anna spent last night flying and I spent today meditating on flight. Ken kept right on drumming.

What does it all mean?

“The Divine One is the bestower of all joys, there is no other. Says Nanak, listen my mind, we are liberated by remembering that One.”


1 Comment

Filed under Inspiring, Kamalla Rose Kaur's Writings, Multicultural, Pacific Northwest, Sikhi

One response to “Flying Dreams by Kamalla Rose Kaur

  1. Pavaṇ gurū pāṇī piṯā māṯā ḏẖaraṯ mahaṯ.
    Air is the guru, water is the father, the mother the earth great and good.
    Ḏivas rāṯ ḏu­ė ḏā­ee ḏā­ieeāa kẖėlai sagal jagaṯ.
    Day and night are two nursemaids between whose laps plays the entire world.

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