Nymph of the Woods Sitting as I love to do, watching nature fresh and new, Bright new buds of flushing blooms, tiny little red mushrooms, Just the kind that pixies love, and watching birds soar above. Catching all the scents of spring, lost in aimless wondering. The gentle breeze upon my skin, with thoughts of freedom deep within. Gazing at the rays of sun, dancing in the leaves above. I look at what is all around, natures gifts that do abound. Then close my eyes and hear the song, of birds that sing all day long. Relaxed and peaceful, as I rest, I’m lost in nature at its best. I
So what’s really so new? As a kid, I was in awe of Dick Tracy’s watch phone. It was something so futuristic and wondrous, so, well, high-tech – even though the word didn’t exist back then. It was probably before the only high I can remember, which was high fidelity stereo. I loved reading comics and science fiction, and believing that by the time I turned thirty I would have a wrist phone, a portable record player and my own space ship. Travelling to the moon would be like catching a bus for a long weekend and cars wouldn’t use roads, they would fly through the air on invisible skyways.
I woke up suddenly from a dream last night and wondered, yet again, about how illogical dreams seem to be when you awake, but so very logical when you are in the middle of one. I say yet again, because this thought has so often run through my mind. This morning I started to think about dream logic again and suddenly remembered taking some notes a long time ago. After searching high and low, I found the rough notes I had made. I had woken suddenly from a dream one night and had tried to note down as much as I could remember. Still half asleep mind you. With
I had one of those magical MLK moments last night. One of those crystal clear dream moments when every thread of my illogical thoughts caramalised into a fudge like state of total and believable reality. The kind of moment that is absolutely momentous when hatched with your head buried under a pillow. One of those moments of insight that is almost knife like in its cutting accuracy. I had a dream. I had a dream that my hypothetical and spiritualistic dream like trance state of transformation from mere mortal to respected Author, Songwriter, Poet, Idiot had been accepted my mainstream literary agents and publishers of the world as the absolute