I have often dreamedof faraway places: Exotic islands, white beaches and majestic palms. Soothing natural rhythms of azure waves Licking the mosaic of sand and driftwood While parrots and macaws trill happily And monkeys chatter amidst the island canopy. Vibratingswaths of bright pastel blossoms, Hosting a traveling caravansary Of delightful floral scents, Freckled far and wide, Tickle the winds above the tall, Jade-skinned, softly undulating island grass. Foam crested water falls, Spilling icily down the mountainside, Thunder like perpetual 21 gun salutes. Plummeting into a moss encircledpond, The scintillating waters spray a fine wet mist Which rains gentlyon an emeraldlilypad flotilla, Each with its own white petal sails That wink and bow at the beck of the breezes. Rainbow sonatas of frogs, flying insects and flowers Sing and dance in the dazzling sun Atop the enchanted pool. I have dreamed as well of alternate dimensions Where I would have my own privateMall of America And a few Blade Runner androids To maintainit like a palace. A place so secretthat POSSIBLY I would have But one human friend,of the opposite gender, With whom to share my kingdom. I have dreamedof having my own holodeck Where I could adventure just like the crews of Star Trek And hobnob with X-Men, Tarzan& Sherlock Holmes Or travel the StarGates with SG-1. Next I¶d chat with Adam and Eve or Noah on the ark And ask the Lord himself What he meant about a few things he said. Whether the dreams occur in the Land of Nod

Or merely as daydreams, while I¶m awake, Theysound the adventurer¶s horn. Yet I find it best if I visit there infrequently And shut them away in my own Pandora¶s box. I¶d enjoy my visits and then return to reality. As much as I wish I could visit the land of make-believe, I know full well that I am better off here In my own world. Why do I say that? If I had access to my own private cosmos Like Jadawin of The World of Tiers, Complements of the late Philip José Farmer, I could become so absorbed in that fantasy That my realitymight diminish from neglect. I might find as well that my fantasy world Is more dangerous than my own. Succulent juicy eye-candy fruit From alternate reality trees Or an alien buffet line might look delectable But color my skin in Smurf blue tones Like an overdose of colloidal silver, Kill me or transform me into an ebony statue. The air might seem pleasant but burn my lungs Or cause me to think I can save the world From imminent destruction By training 7 pink flamingo lawn ornaments To feed boysenberry flap-jacks To Pillsbury Doughboy parking meters. Horrific creatures that are easily battled By my favorite book and movie heroes Would probably be more than a match for me. Or I might kill one and find that it only looked ugly, But was cordial, ateonly rotten fruit, Ants, wasps and mosquitos, thendefecated gold coins. Temptations that I elude While wandering my own world Would probably overtake me in that realm. So I will continue to dream And be thankful that I only have virtual access To those oft dreamed faraway places.

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