Childhood daydream

When I was little, I always daydreamed that I could fly, literally. Back when I was in Kelantan when I was 9 years old, we used to live in a bungalow house surrounded by a small orchard overgrown with bananas and red and yellow rambutan trees. We used to see foxes crossing the lalang field on the side of the house or get the occasional house calls from small snakes or a crossing biawak, whom I think were confused with this house in its path to the other side.

We didn’t have many friends outside the house. So we had to amuse ourselves with our toys and made up games. I used to climb the railing on the second-storey building which was near the balcony, and it was quite a climb as there were no safety net below but we were determined to go to the front part of the house  which was actually the roof for the porch below, and then we would play and probably had some sort of picnic there. Or I would stare out the windows to look at orchard the below. I’d always dreamed that if I jumped out the window, then I’d be able to fly. God’s angels would break my fall and bring me to safety. I was tempted many times to jump out the window from the second story bungalow, each time the temptation was bigger than the last. But each time I grew more cautious of the inner voice, I didn’t know if that was my conscience urging me to be more sensible or was that my fear, preventing me from jumping out the window. Maybe it’d be a different story if I’d jumped. 

I guess the imagination of a child is boundless, but as the years passed they grew up, and that's when they gradually lost the magical feeling of dreaming and thinking that they could doing anything. They had to make the decision whether to jump or not to jump...