Meant to Be a Bird

“A bird?”

“Yes. I felt like a bird.”

“And you’re still going to do this?”

“I have to. I know it’s crazy, but I can fly.”

“You’re absolutely nuts, you know that? There is a zero percent chance you can fly just because of some silly dream you had. And there is a zero percent chance I’d be anywhere near that plane after that kind of dream.”

“Well that’s you. And it was more than just a dream. I have, I don’t know, faith, I guess. It’s not like anything will happen anyway.”

“Better you than me.”

And so most of my conversations went with my friends and family after I told them I was making a solo skydive for the first time. That, and after I told them about the dream I had where I would jump out of a plane and somehow, some way be able to fly, that was when the questions of my mental acuity came out. 

I wasn’t sure how to fully explain it to them. I wasn’t even sure I could fully explain it to myself. I admitted that I knew it sounded crazy because it was crazy. Everyone knew it. I knew it. It was crazy. 

And yet…

When that day rolled around, I had no hesitation driving to the airport. I had no hesitation watching the instructor go over all of the gear and rifle through the various safety precautions that she recited with a combination of seriousness and professionalism. I had no hesitation watching as she folded and packed each of the parachutes and reserve parachutes we’d be jumping with that day. 

I had no hesitation because I had seen this all already in my dream. And I knew exactly how it ended. 

I couldn’t bring myself to share the dream with my instructor. I knew she wouldn’t believe me anyway. And she probably wouldn’t let me jump solo if she knew about it. 

“Thanks for going over all of that. It really makes me feel better about this whole thing,” I told her. I knew it’s what she wanted and needed to hear. 

“It’s no problem. There’s always first time jitters. Remember your first tandem, how nervous you were? Heck, there’s always jitters no matter how many times you do this solo. I still get nervous sometimes.”

“How many solos have you done?”

“Wow. Who knows? I lost count years ago. A couple thousand if I had to guess.”

“And never any accidents?”

“Not one. Our company has a perfect safety record.”

“That’s amazing.”

“I know. Almost too good to be true, right? You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll be jumping right behind you. You just won’t be strapped to me this time.”

There were seven others jumping with me that day. A couple were newbies to solo jumps, just like me, but the others were all veterans with several dozen jumps between them. 

“You guys nervous?” I asked, trying to keep everything light and loose. 

“Nah. This is old hat for us.”

“Speak for yourselves!” the newbies piped up. 

They all started chatting away. As they did, I drifted back to my dream. It was the most vivid experience I’d ever had without actually physically experiencing something. I knew it wasn’t just a dream. It was more of a premonition. It had to be. It was so real. At least, I would make it be real. I would fly. Really. 

I don’t know why I blurted out the next thing that I did, but I suddenly butted in with, “I had a dream last night that I am gonna fly today.”

That seemed to get their attention, if nothing else. 

“Well, yeah, we all are going to fly today. More or less, anyway.”

“No, no, I mean really fly. Like, with no parachute. Just me. Flying.”

There was a bit of a pause as they all looked around at each other trying to make sense of what I was saying. 

“That’s a heck of a dream to have.”

“Yeah. That’s a crazy dream to have before your first solo dive.”

“No doubt. That sounds kind of amazing, though. Imagine if we really could fly.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?”

And on and on they went, clearly not buying my flying story. That’s ok. If they wouldn’t believe me, I’d just have to show them. 

We boarded the plane. It was almost time. I made sure I was the first one on so I’d be the last one off. 

The flight up was overwhelmingly transformative. I felt myself somehow getting lighter as the plane climbed higher. It was like my bones were hollowing out to become like a bird’s, so that I could soar with them. My dream was about to be realized. I could feel it. 

“Alright, everybody. Listen up. We’re just about at the jump zone,” the instructor’s voice crackled over our headphones. “Just remember to wait for the person in front of you to clear before going.”

She stepped over to the door and slid it open before looking at the altimeter next to it. It was inching closer and closer to ten thousand feet, our jump altitude. 

“Weather is perfect today. Not a cloud in the sky. You’ll be able to see for miles. Perfect jump day!”

“Perfect day to fly,” I whispered to myself. 

“Everyone make sure your main rip-cord and emergency rip-cord are both accessible and that your altimeter reads ten thousand, where we’re at now. Thumbs up if you’re good.”

Thumbs started slowly popping up, the vets first, then the newbies being extra cautious. I checked mine as told, knowing I wouldn’t really be needing them, but also knowing I wouldn’t be jumping if I didn’t check. 

Two thumbs up. 

“Alright, good.” She glanced down at her watch. “We’re thirty seconds out. Remember that our target is to pull at three thousand, no less. That’s plenty of time to sightsee.” Another glance at her watch. “Twenty seconds.”

My heart was racing. It was thumping against my chest like never before. I had never been so anxious or excited. I couldn’t control the smile on my face. I knew I was about to fly. 

“Ten seconds.”

I closed my eyes and let my mind visualize the last part of my dream. I was free. I was flying. I was really free. Free. 

“Go time, people. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

One by one, the jumpers in front of me began taking that leap. One by one, the line shortened to just me. My toes came to the edge. I looked back at my instructor who would be just behind me. Big thumbs up and a smile. 

I took one last deep breath. And like that, I was out the door. 

The free fall was exactly as she explained and so much different from my tandem jumps. There was seemingly nothing I couldn’t see, nothing and no one holding me back. The ocean on the left, the bluest blue I’d ever seen, the mountains to the right, the  greenest green. I was surrounded on all sides by a freedom that I cannot explain. No constraints. No worries. It was as close to perfect as perfect gets. 

I stretched my arms out and I felt the rush of wind catch them both like wings. I remembered that the instructor said it was about thirty seconds from the time we jumped to the time we needed to open our chutes. I don’t know why I remembered that right then. I didn’t need to know that. 

I spread my arms farther, as far as they could go. Just below me, chutes were opening. If it was time for them to parachute to safety, it was time for me to fly. 

I soared right past the opening chutes as my final maiden flight took even better shape with no one else in front of me, just the open sky. My body felt like it had never felt before. Something about it was different. I knew my dream wasn’t just a dream. I was flying. Actually flying. I turned and flapped my arms, catching the air in them, my newly blossomed wings. I was free, just like the birds I so often envied. 

I looked at my altimeter to see where I was. Two thousand feet. I couldn’t believe how beautiful everything looked from here. I couldn’t believe how free I finally felt. I’d never felt so alive as I did in that moment. It was real. It was true. I really was flying. To think no one believed me when I said I could. They’d believe me in a few minutes.

And then, just like that, I wasn’t flying anymore. 

A sudden jerk from someone else’s hand on my rip-cord stopped my flight. I was wrenched upward as the chute fully extended and violently slowed my descent. I looked down to see my instructor right next to me clinging to my harness as the ground came sharply into focus. The crack I felt in my legs as we hit the ground brought about the sudden realization that I couldn’t fly anymore. 

I was so close to being free. That close. I was about to be free of it all. And then I wasn’t. 

“Are you ok?”

“No,” I angrily replied. 

“You hurt?”

“I think so. I don’t know. Why did you stop me?”

“Stop you? It’s my job to yank your cord when there’s a malfunction.”

“When there’s a malfunction,” I repeated. 

That’s the thing. There was no malfunction. I was going to fly. So I did fly. I was meant to fly away. She ruined it. I was almost free. I was free for a moment. I was flying away from it all. And she took that from me. She took away the ultimate freedom I had so carefully planned. 

But I certainly couldn’t tell her that. 

“Definitely a malfunction,” I said, falling flat against the ground on my back. The sky above seemingly smirked at me, like it was trying to tell me something. Don’t use me for your plan. 

I guess I wasn’t meant to be a bird after all.