Sometimes I like to dream. This regular, real world is fine, but what of other worlds, other realities, other potentialities?

I dream I am a mastadon, thundering through the city, crushing cars, flinging those annoying political signs with my long tusks. I am king.

I dream I am ancient, solid. I have been here for thousands of years, watching the short-lived people come and go like a "flower quickly fading, a wave tossed in the ocean, a vapor in the wind." Thousands, perhaps millions have passed me by - some look, some notice, some ignore, some avoid. But I am still here, and will remain.

I dream I can fly. I make a great big paper airplane, don my cape, and make sure I remember my sunglasses; where I'm going, I will need my sunglasses. I stand on the top of the tallest building I can find, launch my plane and jump aboard.

I dream of flying to the sun. I will not be like Icarus; my plane is magic, protecting me, carrying me, lifting me - body and spirit.

Anyone watching the sunset over the Snake River may see me as I fly far above. They will envy me for I am free, more free than before.

I will fly so high, I will hold the sun in the palm of my hand.