alive and kicking

[Ron Wyn]

I dreamed I was a warrior. I dreamed of battles, I dreamed of feats, I dreamed of lands unconquered.

 

I dreamed of a butterfly—soft, untouched—taking flight. Irregular flight.

 

I dreamed I was alive…and kicking.

 

I dreamed the world—my world—was perfectly round. I dreamed of friends. I dreamed I was ready for myself.

 

I dreamed I was bathing in a crystal clear mountain stream. I dreamed the trees were in communion—with a huge, flat, sun-warmed rock.

 

I dreamed the Moon was full…of love, life, and watercolors.

 

I was high. High on summertime. High on pure breath. Way higher than my silly limitations.  

 

And when I finally came down, I was still here. Now.

 

I woke up to find my bed was made. I woke up to find my mind was blank. I woke up to find my dreams had all come true.

 

And tomorrow, when I once again lie in slumber, I shall remember the virtues and—yes Johnny—the watusi, the twist.

 

And tomorrow, when my time comes, I will know there is no tomorrow, no sorrow, no time.