I awoke, euphoric, from soaring through the sky. It was the Spring of the amazing and new. Here and there, an extraordinary dream blossomed. I was being shown glimpses of a future potential of a healthy, mature dreaming self. The treasure, the hidden heritage was in sight. My dreaming self was a Super Hero at the peak of dream experience. But a solitary one.

I awoke, perplexed, from a mundane dream. My dreams were conflicted. The deeply etched trauma of childhood rose to the surface. Dreamwork techniques helped me wade through the flotsam and jetsam bobbing on the waves. Until they were cleared away, it was hard to spirit surf on the Summer sea of unconscious.

I awoke, laughing, from a humorous dream. The Autumn days were long and golden. Dreams were colorful, delightful. Playmates abounded. My dreaming self played in an interactive Indian summer camp with other dreamers. I feasted on a harvest of new dreams.

I awoke troubled again. It was the winter of discontent. But this time I was pleased to discover that, after a summertime of playful exercise, my dreaming self didn't struggle so hard. The anti-play elements were in full swing, the dark clouds rolled in. My dreaming self was engulfed with forgetfulness, but she didn't have nightmares.

This time, I wasn't the only one. My fellow dreamers complained of interior torment and outer troubles. "I haven't had a flying dream in months," they said. "I don't remember my dreaming self having a good chuckle in a long time," they said. "A lucid dream? What's that?" they said. The tide had turned. I was beginning to think that the land of dreams was experiencing a global Black Out. The challenge became, how to keep the Inner Child healthy, growing, developing, even in the midst of the Dark Age. I became a hermit of dreams.

Today, I awoke from a flying dream. Spring has returned. Tomorrow I start packing for summer vacation.