I'm on a shoplined street. Ahead of me, a little girl, maybe nine years old, admires a display, exclaims "Beautiful balloons!"

The owner--tall and craggy--is just closing up shop, and won't let her in even briefly. His energy's smug, hostile, a bit creepy. ENJOYS denying her. Sexism, agism, what? He locks up and walks off.

She gets mad. Stomps off too. But then pauses. Looks again... and teleports one of the balloons through the window into her arms! I'm impressed.

The shopkeeper looks back and sees her with it and runs back. Assumes he left the shop unlocked and she slipped in. Threatens her and snatches the balloon away.

At last he leaves again, warning her that everything's locked up tight and if the alarms go off he'll have her arrested.

She of course teleports another balloon through the window. Notices I'm watching. With a glint in her eye she drawls "oops!" and lets it go. The balloon flies off in the wind. She teleports a whole rainbow of them out. Pretty. "Ooooops!" Off they fly, tumbling down the street. Not rising--they're full of air not helium. She seems pleased.

I say "I have some helium balloons that don't just blow around but really rise." She's uninterested. "Helium balloons are too easy. For flight I like hot-air balloons best."

I scan the horizon. See flocks of balloons, tumbling and trailing in wings like migrating geese. Guess she liberated the whole shopful in revenge. Beautiful, eerie sight.

NOTES IN THE MORNING

It's clear what provoked the dream. Yesterday I was biking straight to work along my usual route when the cops stopped me and questioned me for half an hour. A neighbor had called the cops and claimed I was biking round and round her block, casing houses for burglary!

So the mood of the dream is familiar. That smirking shopkeeper's like my neighbor, and I felt much like this rebellious kid.

DECADES LATER

I now suspect the psychic powers in the dream symbolize... well, psychic powers. At least this same girl showed up 26 years later, much the same, in a second dream, Spontaneous Duck, which is clearly about paranormal abilities... But in this world, talking about paranormality gets you stigmatized as credulous at best and often as crazy. Ability your tribe doesn't share gets labeled disability. Or delusion.

This dream helps demonstrate one non-paranormal power. For several years I'd been diligent, studying and acting on dreams. Practice pays off! For that night, I've only posted this dream and The Crows of Oz, but they were just two of TEN dreams that night--circa 2400 words in all. Not a world record, not even MY record for that year... but up there.

I wonder. Maybe the flocks of bright balloons teleported through the window mean all those crazy dreams recalled--freed from the narrow storehouse of my skull. And, apparently, from a mean dream-censor.

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