I dream of flying – floating above the earth in the warm updrafts, touching clouds, tracing the curve of the ground below. The world in miniature. Tilt-shift photography.
Once I dreamt I could walk on water.
I wonder if fat people dream of being thin. And in their dreams, do they run distances, walk to the store? Do they dance? Has the guilt gone? Do they look at their bodies and know this is what they were made for?
When I awake from sleep, as the subtle fingers of the dream slip from my memory, I always have a disappointment, a sadness that lingers with me, following me like a weight around my ankles.