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Fly Over the River Canyon, 9/18/84
A young man and I are sitting at a counter. As
if starting on a trip, he takes a rolled sleeping bag
from the room and through the swimming pool outside. I
follow.
Then we are standing at a cliff overlooking a river
canyon. Other young men are jumping and diving into the
river, sometimes bouncing like rubber balls off the
sides of the cliff, because the cliff isn't sheer enough
to drop down vertically without hitting it.
I ask my companion, "Do you want to?" "Yes," he
replies. "Well, let's fly over!" I urge him.
I take him by the right arm and together we fly
across the canyon to the other side and over some
obstructions or people below us. We come to a sheer
cliff and turn 90° straight up. I fly us directly
upwards, quite close to the sharp edge of the rock. I'm
feeling exuberant; sure that we'll make it to the top,
even though it's quite high. Flying upwards, I
wake. | 
