If I could try something new, my dream would be to ride in a hot air balloon. I actually don’t like heights so maybe the results wouldn’t be as fantastical as what I dream…but oh that dream.
Rising before dawn and traveling to a large grassy field. A massive blanket of cloth scratched across the land waiting to be brought to life. Heat rising from the small jet of flames shooting lift into our canopy. Slowly lifting off the dew damp ground and rising above the foggy drifts into the sky pinking with sunrise.
Gently swept along by the early breeze. Cool on our faces as the jet of flame warms us. Looking down from our woven basket into the world below as it yawns, stretches, and awakes into another busy day.
As the air is warmed by the rising sun we slowly coast back to earth. Once again on land we embark on the physical labour of packing up the balloon that gifted us briefly with the joy of being one with the sky. The demanding efforts grounding us back into the world we’d left behind.