I always feel privileged when I get a dream in which I can fly. I’d love to fly. It’s why I prefer Superman to Batman, probably.

Also, I want stories to be serious, but I get sick of the idea that darkness is the same thing as seriousness. I think the Superman idea, of having a being of near-infinite power, essentially a god, who is a fairly good person trying to be better, is more interesting than the Batman idea, which is about being driven and twisted by childhood trauma, and so forth.

I think the effort to be good is more interesting, and more like most people, than being shaped by some endlessly romanticised “terrible event”.  

Anyway, I like dreams of flying. I also like dreams about huge, old labyrinthine wooden houses, that have a ricketty third floor that waves a little in a strong wind, and then I discover there’s a fourth floor, and a tower above that. I can’t stop climbing. 

I guess I like heights. Top of a tree. Top of the stairs. Up in the air. Up on the roof. It’s safe up there.