7/01
It is winter, and maybe the year 1910. Everything in the backgrounds and the landscapes of this dream is either grey or the color of parchment, vaguely khaki. My house, however, is white and full of columns, but I am afraid to be inside it. The whole place feels rather dangerous, mostly because it is so large and yet completely empty. I go outside in a navy blue wool cloak and fur slippers, walking around my house on the hill looking for other people. In the middle of the outside of the house is a giant staircase, separating the east and west wings. I walk up the white marble to what I think will be a courtyard, but instead see the inside of a beige tent, taller than the tree tops. On the top step, I see my three brothers, who are standing at the base of the trapeze, watching my older sister flit around. They see me approach and tell me to get up there, so I take off my winter clothes and my heavy layers until I am in a flowy white dress, and I fly up to meet her.
[At this point in my dream, I realize I am dreaming and find it hilarious that in this world the circus cheats not by having lions de-toothed or fake exhibits for the freak show, but by having the trapeze artists being able to fly.]
In the dream though, the real me isn’t in control, and the dream me is elated. It is the first time I have flown in a long time, though I do not know why, and just being able to again make me giddy with laughter. Happiness is bursting out of me, and my sister looks happy too, and we float around aimlessly until one of our brothers shouts up, rather grumpily, to stop showing off and just practice the routine.
We dive through the air, undulating with the arcs of the trapeze, working to make it seem like we obey gravity, until the boys shout up that we can stop, and they fly up to work on the tightrope as we float gently back down to the ground.
