2010... 1984.

I figured that moving through air would pretty much be the same as moving through water, and to my dismay it wasn't. It took me a while to realise that floating in this medium had nothing to do with how I flapped my arms or paddled my feet. Like molasses, like a rudderless sailboat on a still day, I meandered through the air. Apparently, floating through the air had everything to do with the mind and nothing to do with the body. I had to take a mental snapshot of the room, visualize myself cutting through it, and it would be so.
There were colorful couches on both sides of the hall. The floor was polished marble and a grand crystal chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, and there I was heading straight for it. "Look out!" came a shout. I looked down and saw SK. "What is she doing in my dream?" I wondered. "Assalamoalaikum Jee" came a reflex action. "Baita, please fly lower, you'll hurt yourself", she half scolded. I visualized me descending a lower altitude, and so it was.
Down the lobby was a picture window. I could see the most beautiful conifers against the snowcapped mountains. Beams of dazzling sunlight fell on pine cones and revealed the blazing hues of exotic birds in flight. It was like heaven. But as I continued down the sharp bend, it slowly became colder. The hall became barren, no luminous chandelier, no picture window, only a long chilling passageway that grew darker and darker. I could no longer float and slowly settled on the chilling floor.
I was standing on a diving board like platform and there were gushing streams of water under me. Artificial, dark, hateful. I knew I had to jump into the gushing stream and swim up. It was impossible! I couldn't be done! Then some force pushed me off the platform.
I woke up feeling strange, disoriented. A good friend provided interesting insights, analyzed my subconscious visions. Thank you for that.
Be as it may, this new year’s resolution is never forgetting how to fly and to never standing over gushing waters alone. Carpe Diem!