I woke this morning from a pleasant dream in which I could fly.
A simple sort of sweater vest/harness with small wings on it allowed me, with some minimal work, glide for impossibly long distances. I had to jump up and exercise a bit to get into the air initially, but pretty soon I was gently soaring over the bright ocean, and coming in close to shore and sitting for a while in the highest branches of the gnarled trees that grew partly on shore, partly in the waves. A small band of mice came and told me a story about the war they were fighting with some other tribe of mice, and I promised to help them when I had a chance.
Then I remembered that I was supposed to be substitute teaching for my friend, Brian, which could have been nightmarish, but the woman who came to remind me of my duties thought that discovering flight should be a perfectly delightful reason to forget I had promised to teach. Besides, another substitute had also forgotten. So we both rode in the woman's small car back to the school, where the children were delighted I was their substitute. So much so that I never even had a chance to tell them about my flight or the mice.
And I woke up relaxed and happy. And the children got ready easily for school, and my wife seemed especially lovely and loving. It was, all in all, an excellent way to start the day.