You can’t even
Imagine,
The things that
My mind comes up
With,
Each night
When I am tucked away
In bed. Under
Blankets that pile high
Enough to touch
The shallow ceiling
Above my bed.

Worlds others
Will never see.

Swamps
That go up to your chin,
And are as dark as
The night sky through
My open window
Beside me.

Empty fields,
Groggy oaks
Lining the outer perimeter,
And grass swaying
From left to right
In the whistling wind.

A small Mexican village,
Small buildings—
Houses and shops—
All cramped together
Like baby carrots in
A package,
Falling upon each other because of
A source with strength
Beyond their own.

A small clearing in a forest,
A gray tent lies within the clearing,
Outside the tent
Dusty sleeping bags lie
Empty, waiting
For their owners return.

A long cave in a fairytale forest,
Within it lies a wet, brown bear,
Sitting there, alone,
Perfectly still, like a stone sculpture,
Its back turned from the world outside the
Cave, it faces towards the back,
It’s mind overflowing with it’s dreams.

Suddenly, I realize that I am
Asleep. That I
Am dreaming.
I can’t help but wake,
Now. My lids
Squeeze and than depart from each other,
For the first time in many, long hours.
My green eyes
Frantically look around,
Waiting to adjust
To the real reality; the dark, nighttime
World around me. Maybe my dream will
Stay with me for the rest of tonight. But,
Whatever the world that I dreamed of
Was, only I will
Be the one that sees
This magical place.

My magical place.