CHESTER -- For most of her life, Cyndi Rhames has had a recurring dream in which she can fly.
The dream has her soaring through the air, looking down into a valley and seeing the beauty of the trees and colors of nature.
That vision can only exist in her sleep. Because Rhames, 49, has been blind since age 13.
But Sunday, the Spartanburg woman came as close as is humanly possible to the exhilaration of flight — she went sky diving for the first time.
Rhames was among a group of workers from the S.C. School for the Deaf and Blind who made jumps at Skydive Carolina in an exercise that was part bonding experience and part life lesson to the students they teach.
The lesson is twofold: 1) It's important to try new things, even when they're outside your comfort zone, and 2) Don't let your circumstances limit your dreams.
“A disability doesn't have to mean an inability,” said Susan Gault, 36, a teacher at the school who started blazed the path toward Sunday when she started sky diving a year ago and, by her own admission, “just wouldn't shut up about it.”
For months, she pestered coworkers to give it a try. Gradually, interest grew. And when Rhames, a counselor at the school, agreed to do it, that was the clincher that put the plan on the fast track.
“I enjoy working with these folks, so I decided I would go jump out of a plane with them,” said Rhames, who's been at the School for the Deaf and Blind for 19 years.
“I hope it'll be like flying,” she said, recalling the familiar dream. “That's what I'm looking forward to, that feeling of flying.”
Rhames' involvement inspired others to take the plunge.
“I'll try anything like this one time,” said co-worker John Neff, 24, noting that one idea teachers try to instill in students is to learn to experience things, not just talk about them. “This is about as real as it gets.”
The group couldn't have picked a better day to jump: warm, sunny and just a hint of wind.
As she waited for her group's turn to board the plane for her tandem jump with an instructor, Rhames was asked frequently if she was scared. Each time, she answered the same: Not yet.
The group boarded the plane just after 3:30 p.m. and the aircraft made its climb and disappeared into the clear blue sky. A short time later, tiny dots appeared against that blue backdrop. The dots gradually got bigger. The whoosh of wind against parachutes cut through the air. Screams of excitement could be heard from the ground as the sky divers made their slow, graceful, descent to earth beneath colorful canopies.
Soon, the focus was on a blue and gray parachute.
“Is that her?” people asked.
It was Rhames, as close to flying as she can be.
As she approached the ground, her face showed the intensity of the experience. She extended her legs outward, following the directions of the instructor.
The landing went smoothly.
“You just jumped out of a plane,” the instructor said.
“That was awesome,” Rhames said in a calm voice.
She was pressed for more details.
Scary? A little.
Would she do it again? Yes, but not anytime soon.
“Incredible,” she said. “I can't even think.”
In jumping out of that plane, Rhames — who hasn't seen a color, face or other image in 36 years — became a living lesson for the students she counsels that a disability doesn't have to define a person, nor does it have to keep one from enjoying life.
Just as she has many times in her dreams, Rhames soared through the air Sunday, only for real this time.
No, she couldn't see the colors and beauty she sees in her sleep. But, for the most part, it still was a dream come true.
“It was wonderful.”
Jason Foster — 803-329-4066
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