I dreamt last night of being at a fair of some sort with my two grown children, their significant others, and a bunch of children. It seemed as though we were the only modern people there. Everyone else was like turn of the 19th century. Sort of.
There was an old barn like structure that had been converted in what was for the time a large school, divided into a couple dozen school rooms, all plain unpainted wood. But for the fair, each room was set up with old fashioned rides or games. Another old barn near that was a craft bazaar. This was all within an old farmstead that had garden edged walkways surrounding actual kitchen gardens, each with it’s own little garden cottage like what Germans have for their weekend gardening projects. There was also a little mainstreet like something out of the Old West with boardwalks instead of sidewalks. It was like a reservation for a people of a particular time period.
I was flying a few inches above the ground, pretending to walk for the sake of the old time denizens there who might otherwise have noticed and freaked out, flying high only to shortcut to other levels of the complex. I was trying to teach the kids how to do this as well, trying to tell them that they needed to visualize the earth covered by a shallow forcefield that they could push up on. The older ones got it okay, but the little ones didn’t and had to be carried when we made big leaps.
Meh. Fairly pointless dream in all… but I do like flying dreams, even lame ones like this.