skipping, singing, flying

I was in Newcastle, staying with my family, in both of the houses that we lived in when I was growing up. I decided to step out for a walk, heading down the road, past my grandparents' home, past the neighbours' houses, down onto Parkway Avenue. Rather than walking, I skipped, and instead of a standard skip I tapped each foot twice when placing it in front - a very rhythmic skip. I noticed how the homes had changed in the twenty years since I lived there: houses had extensions, new paint jobs, makeovers and new owners. As I skipped, I started to sing "Hopelessly Devoted to You", but instead of singing it in the style for which it is famous, I sang a very quirky version complete with a marching beat on a snare drum which sounded out of nowhere. I continued along the street until I reached a lane which I ventured up, having to climb steep rocks toward the end. I stepped out of my body for a moment and watched as I tried to climb. I saw myself become a man with a moustache, heard him claim that the rock was too steep to scale, and watched as he took hold of a bar with both hands and was hoisted away. I returned to my body and found that I too could take hold of a bar that lifted me out of the rocky lane, high into the sky. I soared through the air, still singing to the fabulous marching beat, gliding above the suburbs of Newcastle. Whilst flying and singing, I decided upon an eclectic song list that I would rehearse and perform once I landed in the right spot.