of super mario brothers 3 (at jackie's house upstairs, because my father didn't condone owning a game system unfortunately, boy that backfired on him later in life). the day i learned to fly was a normal day just like any other.
i've gone over it a hundred times in my mind. i was not or hadn't been sick or with a fever anytime remotely close to that day. i've considered
the most heavily that it was perhaps a dream, just a very vivid one i convinced myself was real. this i do not believe to be the case, and i'll
explain why in more detail in a bit. i was on no medication at the time and had never been up to that age. i was not medicated, fever-delusional, or
i remember when it happened saying to myself that obviously i was dreaming. i remember doing small tests to see if it was a dream, like i had seen on
tv. it is the known cliche in tv's and movies for people to say "pinch me, i must be dreaming." well as a kid watching lots of tv like most kids
that age i absorbed everything and remembered that. i pinched myself a lot, hard. i did not wake up, as silly as that sounds. i stood in my room
pinching myself all over, and i remember even trying to pull my hair. i thought the stingy feeling of the hair being plucked would surely wake my
body up, but alas all i had was a piece of stringy brown hair between my fingers and nothing had changed. i also considered since i wasn't in my bed
sleeping i wasn't dreaming, but thinking back that's pretty silly child logic. kind of cute actually. if it were a dream i could have been
sleeping in my bed experiencing all this out of body, or i could have woken up and gotten to that point. dreams are like that, they can go anywhere,
so checking to see if i was there sleeping really wasn't of any use, but i did it anyway. i remember throwing back my covers thinking i was going to
be able to wake myself up but i wasn't there. this is when i started to think perhaps i was going a little insane.
so here i am, little me pinching myself and pulling my hair, trying to find myself in my bed to wake myself up. a little frustrated, i went out into
the kitchen. i said (and this is word-for-word, ask my dearest mother) "mom, i can fly." she was used to me being outlandish and i had a wild
imagination at that age, so she responded simply "oh yeah? let's see it then."
i stepped in front of her and put both feet out just like i would normally standing there. about 6 inches apart, feet straight (well, pigeon-toed me)
out. i was about five feet in front of where she stood. i smiled at her and stood there. the smile turned into a look of concentration, while just
stood there and beamed a big momma bear grin back down at me. the look of concentration turned into frustration. i remember when i was even younger
i would do this thing where i would make my face red and show people by forcing the blood up into my head. you like just tense your head up and push
really hard, i'm sure most people have done this. anyway i got in trouble for it and my mom used to say i was going to give myself an anerism. she
said to me as i stood there "i thought i told you to stop making your face red. you're head is going to pop off if you keep doing that."
i relaxed, and asid "did you see? did it do it?" but in truth i already knew the answer. what happened to me about an hour ago when i was alone
in my room had convinced me that if i had done it, she'd have definitely noticed. and freaked out. that's what i was going for, i was that kid
that always had to freak his mom out. defeated, i sauntered back into my room. once i was inside and the door was closed, i started to fly again.
i'll be completely honest with you. yes, since then i have tried to fly alone in my room with the door closed. maybe once every two years ill be in
a weird mood and ill do it in the shower. or i'll be drunk on news alone after a party and i'll try it real quick then stop and feel foolish.