My twin sister and I came to bike riding later than the other kids. I think we were nine years old. We each had a used old bike. Mine was a paper route bike with fat wheels. This was before the time of mountain bikes. Neither of our parents could ride, but they encouraged us to practice in the back yard where the grass would make for a soft landing.
I struggled. I just didn't seem to be getting to that magic moment when I wasn't falling off. I wasn't a natural talent. My sister was progressing much faster than I was. It was harder to manage on the grass than on a smooth surface. But, even though I felt discouraged, I persisted.
Time went on and the practice and struggle continued until one day we got help from an unexpected source. Another set of twins we knew took some time with us after school to help us get the hang of it. Before long, I was off and confident. I could RIDE A BIKE !
The next morning I got out onto my bike and after a little wobble, off I went. When I saw the twins at school later that day, I thanked them for helping us out. But they were confused. They had no memory of this.
Now I was confused. It had seemed so real. In that moment I realized I had learned to ride a bike in a dream.
Yet in spite of the confusion, I felt elated. I could RIDE A BIKE ! There was no going back now. The practice I got in my dream had translated itself into real life. I was already riding with confidence.
Help from the twins was unexpected. Help from a dream was even more unexpected. Until then, I'd thought dreams were just dreams. What a happy revelation to discover that dreams were real enough and powerful enough to have my bike skills bleed through into my waking life.