Flight of Fancy?

For a long time, I have questioned the meaning of what we call intuition because of a series of experiences. Moments of clarity about events impossible to anticipate or prove. You might relate.

Some years back, I had booked a ticket to fly from Australia to Europe for a holiday and looked forward to New Year’s Eve in the snow. Rather than making arrangements through a travel agent, I had bought my ticket directly with the airline.

Excitement about going to Italy, meeting friends there and being carefree for a month around Europe beckoned me. The trip had been planned for several months and was finally about to start. I had trouble knowing what to pack because the temperature was 38 C and imagining the feel of cold air impossible.

Something at the back of my mind troubled me. A fear of flying had increased over the years although I had assumed that it would fade with each long haul flight. A nasty landing in Hong Kong had cemented my suspicion that human beings are not meant to be seated way up in the sky.

So, it must have been my fear of flight that hung over me like a black cloud. I told myself that I would have to push it aside if I wanted to wander around Europe and enjoy myself. After all, I had saved money for what felt like ages and now I seemed ready to waste it.