What a strange dream . . . flying dreams seem to be a recurring thing for me, but this time I was wondering just how high I could go. So I willed myself to ascend as high as possible (and this time no-one was trying to stop me). . . just wondering what would happen. Eventually, I looked down, realised how high up I was and almost panicked . . . what if I somehow forget how to fly? Aren't I a bit freaked by heights anyway? And so I would descend . . . sometimes touching the ground gently, sometimes with a bump. I kept trying this over and over again, but it always seemed like something was holding me back at a specific height. This all sounds far too symbolic/allegorical for my liking. Like, erm . . . I've imposed my own limitations and these are what keep me back or some such rubbish. Personally, I think the link, if any, between 'reality' and the dreamed is far more subtle than that . . . far more complex.

So, anyway . . . I'm going on holiday shortly, so tonight is all about packing and making sure I'm all ready for a week (or so) in the islands of Scotland . . . specifically, Mull.