Flying

Mitch had always dreamed of flying. Dreams in which he soared over some distant landscape. Kate said that this clearly meant that he, subconsciously, wanted to fly away from her. But she smiled when he said this. And he knew that he wasn't flying away from anything, or towards anything... He was just flying.

The first time he flew - to the Canaries, with Kate - he had half-expected the flight to somehow relate to his dreams and had been vaguely disappointed at the claustrophobic reality. Later, he had flown in a glider but, again, it wasn't the same. Nothing lived up to the unreality.

They were back on Lanzarote when Kate saw a sign advertising parascending. This involved being towed behind a boat whilst attached to a parachute. The forward speed caused the parachute to rise, lifting you into the skies. Mitch watched people as they tried this and knew that the limited, tethered freedom would do nothing for him and so, whilst Kate handed over her Euros and waited to be kitted out with life jacket and goggles, he, on an impulse, bought a diving mask and snorkel from a stall next to the beach.

The experience of slowly swimming, face-down, whilst watching the ever-changing sea-floor as it gradually rose up towards him only to fall away again was bewitching. Mitch slowly explored along the length of the beach. He watched Kate's ascent whilst floating on his back and then returned to his silent progress above the sandy sea bed. He was, as in his dreams, flying.