On a damp, misty, very dim overcast day, I was going north on 137 toward Longview; I turned right up a driveway/road through some woods out into a big open field area and seemed to be flying low; I continued up the road up a gradual rise, then realized I was getting to the height of land forming the eastern edge of the Moose Brook watershed. I continued up over it and swooped over to where the east-west railroad passed through, parallel to a highway (137 again but not obviously the same as the earlier part) and up a high embankment on the south side of the road; I was flying higher above by then. Here there were more fields along the road, but narrower. I crossed over and descended near a dirt path parallel to the north side of the road (the recurrent Bennington/Hancock marchlands) with the brook next to it maybe.
Later on I arrived at our house in the VW with my dad and helped move something around a small-house-sized plywood box or something sitting at the front of the barn (it was differently oriented from the RL boatshop, with the front door pointing south-southeast), and I told him about the flight, which was imaginary (“mental”) from that point of view, though the conditions were still overcast and even duskier then, with the front lights of the barn illuminating things.