for the first time, or at least for the first time i remember, i´ve dreamt of a spitfire.

the british fighter plane from the second world war.

the scenery of the dream was similar to me being in water tank with a whale, though it was among the clouds, and i was there with this warbird.

cleverly designed engine of great power, sheathed in slender soft tin armour, not a pound of unnecessary weight anywhere.
aerodynamic body with distinctive shapes of a skys royalty. two strong wings with streams of destruction running thru them to chambers of multiple cannons.
powerful, precise, effective, beautiful.

on its back is a cockpit, dwelling above its fuel tanks, full of explosive vigor!
this bird is not manned, the cockpit is filed with squirms of dreams and thru canopy it looks like there is a storm cloud within.
im consciesnes hanging in the sky and i commands the bird by a tought.
its dancing about, rageing.
free, in its element, above
all is dark blue

sometimes its storms in loop showing its belly so near, the sound of engine gets almost ubearebly loud.
its breth takeingly magnificent.

__________

což by bylo k nějaké té onanii :-D

za dvě hodiny a kousek, se dozvím, potažmo naučím něco důležitého.
něco co si teď nedovedu představit.

měl bych se bát, ale nedovedu to. dovedu se jenom těšit a těšit.
když se člověk vydá na cestu dělání toho co cítí, neměl by v půlce začít myslet.