I had recurring dreams of similar scenarios. Sweet, fleeting moments of gliding through silky air. And I mentioned to my dad on how great it would be to grow wings.
"But you can never grow wings," my dad had said.
"Why-ever not?"
"Because you will have to loose your hands and arms if you choose to have wings."
"Why can't I have both arms AND wings. The wings can grow on my back, it doesn't have to take place of my arms."
"But all vertebrae have four limbs, sweety. That's the natural course of the world. That's why you see flying cats or flying horses only in storybooks. You either get to get arms with hands or you get wings. I would personally choose arms instead of wings, and build a machine that flies for me instead. What would you choose?"
That was the first major dilemma I faced in this world; would I choose arms, or would I choose wings? What a cruel world this is, for one to choose dexterity over flight!
Matisse woke me up this morning as usual, by cuddling and being a darling. I automatically wondered, could this animal actually be a robot? There possibility cannot be a living organism in this world that can be this loving and cute, while independent enough to leave for a weekend vacation without any consequences. The natural order of things dictate that you can only have one good thing over the other, you cannot sprout wings while growing a gigantic brain. But clearly, the domestic cat must be a rare exception to the law.
Which leaves me with another question that will probably take another decade or so to solve: how many exceptions are there out there? And where will I be able to find an exception that is willing to live with me for the rest of my life, and to "pass on your father's superior genes to the next generation," as he always calls to remind me that I should before I turn 28. At least I now found a glimmer of hope that such things exist, and perhaps one day I will find my own dream pegasus to keep as mine forever.
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