Flying Dreams 

Even though the Light of Axim shone not, and the Light of Prism was faint, I dreamed.

The exact details escaped me, but the dream was of a mid-19th century war between the French and the Americans, over a place called Palestine, somewhere in North America. I was a French cavalry officer (I don't remember having a horse, though), and I flew (literally, though the air and above the treetops) around laughing at the silly Americans who chased me and my squad all over the place, but, being bound to the ground as they were, couldn't catch us.

I obviously haven't grown up enough to stop having flying dreams. I hope I never do.