Last night, I dreamt that I could fly, sort of. It was with the assistance of balloons... two of 'em, brightly colored (yellow and red, I think). It wasn't so much flying as really high hopping... in one instance I remember hopping high up in a tree and finding a jar of dry roasted peanuts on a tarp where someone had once been but had fallen through. I got the impression that the homeless stayed here, and that this guy had fallen to his death, leaving behind his nuts.
In another case, I ended up leaping to the top of a train/bus.
I often have flying dreams, and they're pretty much always pleasant. It's a somewhat exhilirating sense of freedom. Lately, they come across as providing me with an advantage.
Tonight I woke up drenched with sweat. I don't remember anything particularly scary.