Saudade

Is everything supposed to be bittersweet? (Click for the improved blog experience)

It's Lake Balaton, top floor of an unknown house. I'm with father and some other unknown people. They are our captors, blocking our way from the staircase.
They are questioning us.
'How do you do it?'- one of them asks. I can't recall his face.
'There is nothing special about it'- says my father with the hint of a witty smile. That smile, the kind of smile that tells me that everything is alright and tells them to fuck off.
'You! You tell me how you do it!'- the man is talking to me now.
'I can't do it. I'm still too young.' - and that is the truth indeed. I haven't learnt it yet.
The man nods, and they leave us. We are on our own, with a few boxes around.
'Grab one, Peter.' - he whispers.
'But I can't! And these are so small.'
'That brownish will just do it. Take it.'
I obey and take the box he points at. Rickety cardboard box, glued together at the edges. I sit in it, father joins me in the front.
'Now, Peter. We have to go.' - he commands.
Our captors are downstairs; the windows are wide open in the room. We have to try.
I can't really explain how it feels like, but since it was the first ever time in my life, I feel obliged to share my experience. Father always said I had to look at the sun, and it'll be much easier. With that in mind, I , grabbed the side of the box and started to focus. The box quickly jumped mid-air and started to levitate a metre above ground. I was still resolute about my goal. Father's word echoed in my head. 'We have to go', he said.

The box slowly flew through the air and fluttered outside of the room. Our captors somehow recognized our escape but it was too late. They tried to catch up with us but we were long gone before they could exit the house.

The open air scared me. It was just the vast sky around, and the miniature earth below. Our crappy box was the only thing dividing us from death. I shivered, and the box started to lose altitude.
'The sun, Peter. Don't think about the ground. Just the sun.'
I couldn't do as he commanded. We were steadily descending. Rooftops and chimneys scratched the bottom of the box. I still managed to keep us mid-air, but our trajectory was like a moody wave on the lake itself.
'You were right.'- father sighed with some resignation.
I couldn't see the sun, nor the sky or the clouds anymore. Just the ground below. The box hit the soil and it got torn apart by the force of the impact. As I looked around, father was gone.
The field around was just as empty as the sky and things seemed just as dull as they were before the flight.

No, I wasn't sitting on a torn box but an old bed: sunlight beamed in through the windows. Oh, damn it. Damn the dream, the box, the flight.
Damn my father.
Damn myself and my inability.

But mostly damn awakening.

I can't fly, not even with a rickety box.