This morning before waking up I had the usual dream that I could fly, if only for short periods. I could feel the sensation of my entire body free and the air rushing around me.

In these dreams in the past, it was only me that could fly most of the time, and occasionally a few others. This time, though, I remember what I can only describe as a European city or village, lightly populated with old style buildings, empty space, and gravel roads. Small patches of grass grew near the buildings and simple wooden benches lined the road, on which an old suited man sat and watched kids play and adults talk. (Dreams are such amazing things, because at the same time I could see all the details in his face as well as the overall scene.)

I walked over to the old man, and after some non-descript dream speak, he handed me an umbrella. His gaze prompted me to open the umbrella and open it up, after which he did the same. We left the ground, and soon many others joined us. There was a group of around 50 of us, all with our umbrellas held high and flying hundreds of feet over a cityscape reminiscent of 1800s Europe. I recall looking down on the tightly packed buildings below us, then up to see all of the others holding their black umbrellas and looking at each other with a sense of sincere contentment. I held his hand and told him I could only fly for short periods of time, and was worried that I would fall out of the sky at such altitude. Shortly after, he let go of my hand, yet I wasn’t scared. I could tell that my new friend and everyone else wouldn’t let me fall, and managed to stay airborne the rest of the trip, on my own.

We landed back near the bench, and soon the man was sitting in his own chair, with another old man nearby. I spoke to him and asked him if he had a computer and internet access. Right, weird, I know. I was surprised when he said yes, and I asked him for his e-mail address. He turned to the other old man and began speaking Hungarian, with a bit of Romanian mixed in. When I asked him in Hungarian if he spoke Romanian, he let loose a string of Romanian words, to which I could only respond “Nu inselege Romaneste” (I don’t understand/know Romanian, in Romanian). A half apologetic and half understanding smile graced the lines of his face, and that’s the last distinct part of the dream I remember.