As a result of the kind of depression sleeping that
Robert Penn Warren describes, I've been doing a lot of dreaming lately.
Usually the same old stuff about interaction with my dead parents, imagined erotic encounters, etc.
One strange thing though: there's an experience of my early youth which I can't decide if it was dreaming converted to a recovered memory or what. I remember it as real experience and don't remember dreaming about it recently but for some reason have started thinking about it again.
I seem to remember that in my mid-twenties when I lived in Chicago, for a time I sought thrills by jumping off of mid-rise buildings.
I seem to remember seeking out the right kind of building, one I could get to the roof of and which wasn't too tall and doing this for a few weeks.
I think I must have used a jacket to sort of parachute or something.