There's a recurring dream I have that is very vivid. So vivid that, until I wake up, I am certain that I have done it.

The dream involves leaving Iceland. A mountaintop airport gives you two options: an airplane like everyone else or this sort of hang-glider-thing. It's a sort of improved hang-glider, with a broader wingspan. This hang-glider option is the alternative way of getting back to England from Iceland.
At the top of this mountain, inside a cave at the edge of the mountaintop terminal, an instructor points out some basic rules about how to operate the contraption. Safety requirements are pretty loose.
Then you run off the edge in the contraption and you've taken off.

The trip to London takes about half a day. I remember on several occasions having to leave early in the morning to make it back by mid-to-late afternoon. Along the way I would see a glacier, ice floes and the North Sea and then eventually fly over the white cliffs of Dover (an odd path to take since they're south of London and I am coming from the north). Passing rolling green hills and beautiful countryside, the buildings become more tightly-packed together, and then I pass over to the Thames. The late afternoon sun as it filters through the London smog makes everything a dusty yellow colour as I pass by the Houses of Parliament, the London Eye, and up the river towards the Tower of London.

Every time I take the trip, my path is a little different due to where the wind has taken me. My experiences change, also. Once, only about an hour into my journey, a large passenger aircraft flew very close to me and scared me incredibly. I laughed to myself afterwards, but I was scared at the time.

Usually I'm always alone as I prepare to fly back to the UK from Iceland, but this time there were others that I knew. speedway74 thought me mad for not simply taking the more expensive but faster option of a proper flight. It is what he took and he laughed at us as he wandered back to the departure lounge.
Malana was there though I'd not seen her for the rest of the time I was in Iceland until we arrived in the departure space. She had chosen this method of travel because it was potentially more beautiful, and definitely more environmentally-friendly.
Oddly, my ex-fiance was there, too. It was her first time and she was unsure. Strangely, this was the 18-year-old version of my ex, not the smarter, more confident adult that she is now. She was reassured by my assurances that it was safe and fun. I'd done it several times before and I was fine.

In this dream, I awoke just as I was about to take off though in the past I have made the journey several times. Others grabbed their bags and their contraptions, strapped in, and I heard the whoops and hollers as they dove off the launch pad and off towards home. I readjusted my backpack, unfolded my contraption, climbed in, and then as I made the run towards the launch pad I woke up, much like the happy fade-to-black of a film.

I was really looking forward to that beautiful scenery again, the cold wind on my face, the glacial floes, the sea, the cliffs, the hills and then doing loops above the Thames as I sought to land. I really treasure those experiences and memories as some of my favourites and I was so close to feeling that comfortable independence that I always felt on those journeys.

But it was just a dream.