dream 3

on the plane we feel special. going home- we haven't been yet. our hearts are pulled there, always, to the house of elaborate things, radio calls, furnished with glimmering decoration. things set apart, things immaculate, things untouchable. through the elegant halls we prove we have touched the face of infinity. the plane is taking off. i remember i wasn't going to make it. i had no money. the church and the great lake, light shining on other shores. the kids were all excited about finally going somewhere. i had a different feeling, exclusion. a matriach was planning a trip and bought me a ticket. i felt so honored and flattered. was it a plane or a boat ? what got you there ? sitting in the chair, it is taking off. this time you won't make it. this time the air bag falls down, the pilot is telling you exactly how long it will take the plane to crash, every detail laid out, in sequence, except there is a faint probability the plane could land on the water... there were sleeping bags and she has laid down on one. i saw that other people had chosen spots for their slumber. i wanted to be close to her. i felt like she understood me, although we were young and hadn't much to understand. i ignored the other sleeping bags and laid down near her. she confessed she wanted to be close to me too and we kissed. she chose the best photos to remember, to remember events as beautiful as possible, to tell an auspicious story of jubilance and other feats of the human spirit. there are other hills to trample, other houses to furnish, other lands to stomp, embroil in memory games and sign the rights over. do you feel special? during what course of waking day do you have the feeling that you are on earth to take what you want? there are no-places and alter-natives, endlessly swaying and falling like tree leaves, distant raptured electricity reeling in the night, moving pictures and pixel grid delights, sometimes it takes a dream, a dream and your mind prolapses