I fly at night in my dreams. Quite frequently. It took me a long time - a quarter century or so - to master this flying bit. That is to say, to actually be able to lift off on command, to navigate my adventure in height and direction. Later on, I learned how to swoop other people in my arms or put them on my back and carry them along. By “learned” I mean I just did it, then realized what was happening later. I had to escape from something - what I remember as a giant tidal wave sweeping through the city - which meant getting to a higher elevation. Someone else needed rescuing as well. I grabbed them (don’t remember who) and up we went, just like that, my passenger and I in equal shock and surprise. So it goes. I fly at night will be a document of doing things first and understanding them later, or at best, as they are happening. Specifically, about stumbling upon pregnancy, then motherhood and mothering.
And just like that, off we go.