My old Austin lawyer keeps his white cane firmly on the ground. George Covington now walks the streets of Alpine, Texas. He also writes a column for the local newspaper.
Covington’s recent writing talks about dreams brought on by the pandemic.
More people than ever are reporting dreams that reflect their anxiety and the stress of radical social changes.
Airline captain and novel author Tom Young, who joined a Chapel Hill parachute club and jumped out his first time up in an airplane, and I call those ‘pilot dreams’.
Tom’s dream–he’s flying, but without an airplane.
Other old pilots have told me they dream about trying to flap their arms and fly. Several confided they woke up during their Icarus-like flight to the sun.
As a student pilot, I dreamed of running fast enough to get myself airborne.
After I was licensed to pilot and flew for twelve years, I dreamed of an electrical high line ahead. Do I go under, or pull up and fly over the high line? In my dreams I never found out. Just quit dreaming until I dreamed the same dilemma another night.
In 1968 I quit piloting an airplane. And I quit having the pilot’s dream.
