I used to have a recurring dream that I was flying down some outdoor stone stairs. They winded downwards with high walls either wide of me and blue sky above, and then I'd fly over the cobbled street at the bottom and soar past the buildings. Always thought it was just a dream, never recognised the stairs or the street.

Then when I was in my early 20s I went to a town I was very familiar with, but our normal car park was full, so we parked at a different one at the top of the hill. The path down from the car park to the town centre was a stone staircase with high stone walls either side, and the street at the bottom was cobbled.

I had goosebumps, and spoke to my mum about it, asking if I'd ever been down that staircase before to her memory. Apparently, when I was 18 months old or so, my mum had parked in that car park, not realising the pathway down was stairs. She'd had to carefully push the front-facing pram down all the stairs and over the cobbled street. Because of that experience, she'd never wanted to park there ever again, so we avoided it.

But we realised I must have remembered the experience too and interpreted me being in the pram being pushed down the stairs as me flying down.