Sometimes when I’m out in yard looking at the small stream that flows through my property it looks like a tiny raging river. I have made a concentrated effort to maintain and cultivate my Peter Pan Syndrome. I still toss leaves into the water and race them downstream. The small minnows in the eddies become sharks. A crayfish makes a fine sea monster and the rocks are islands that are ripe for expiration. Who said that being a grown-up means that there’s no time for daydreaming? Gene Roddenberry once said that the best part about the success of Star Trek was having a nice office to daydream in. He made a successful career out of pretending to have adventures in the vastness of outer space. Sure, he used the format to tell morality plays and make important comments about society but in my mind’s eye I can see him with a toy Enterprise having space battles with Klingons. I’ll bet that when nobody else was in the room he even made the “pew pew” sounds of Phasers and photon torpedoes. I have seen a lot of writers post about the finer points of creativity and how to properly relate your story to the audience but it all starts with holding onto a daydream.
Tag: dreamworld
Beneath Dreaming Tree
There is a place in my dreams where a lone tree stands bridging heaven and earth.
As nighttime falls and the land sleeps the clouds come dancing by.
Stars sing in chorus to the nightbird’s lonely cry.
A maiden enters my dreams. Her green eyes pierce the night and she takes my hand.
Rise up you sleeper she whispers softly.
This dream is short and our time has come.
Our thoughts and hearts are one.
But all too soon will come the dawn.
And our dreamworld will too soon be gone.
For sunbeams shatter dreams and the life that will be.
We loved and laughed with warm embrace beneath that single tree.
Til golden light erased the night and stole my dreams from me.
Beneath the sun I toil, the dream still in my head.
With hopes that my dream returns to me, when tonight I go to bed.
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