Big huge Samurai Swords - like Hasan Chop and shit - a fucking blade meant to slice.

A magic carpet with tassels that flutter in the wind taking me exactly where I want to go - time and space irrelevant.

A velvet bag filled with coins - no denomination - universal currency to buy goods, pleasure, and other sundries of little or no importance.

On my way to a big black pot on a deserted island - happy to see the cartoon character boiling in the water with carrots and onions. It says something smart but I don't care - put some salt on its head. Have a real cigarette.

Neighbor passes - rudely interrupts very important train of thought. Give a small wave - more like a pointing to something with the tip of my smoke.

He has no sword, no carpet, and no cartoons in a pot - probably hasn't dreamed like that in years. Can't see it anyway and wouldn't believe it no matter the presentation.

He is going home to do all the right things and I hate him for that. Wonder if anyone else on the street is dreaming about things that make no sense. Wonder about their education, about everything that transpired and resulted in the populace of this place.

Why these people? Why here? Why question the difference between the things I have and the things that they have? Are they new or are they used? Does it matter if no ever asks?

Pick the remnant scab from a mature forehead zit - look at the blood on my finger - suck it off - no return on investment - shit.

Wonder where I might purchase a top hat and cane, perhaps one with a built in lighter - maybe a unicycle to boot.

Fifteen minutes to soccer practice - five since the drive home - two from a can of soda - no guess at how many till the end.

La da te da de da te da - abraca pocus. La da ted da de da te da hocus cadabra.

No bats - no capes - no secret door - this - "Shazam Kid, nice to meet you, here is a special quiver for your spine, a reason to bite your nails, and implications that may haunt your every memory."

Realization: I have mistaken swagger for smarts - looks for rank - and differences for wisdom.

Why is that? Where can I get an Arabian Sword, a rug that flies, or enough confidence to not be afraid - thinking that I am absurd? Would any of it matter if I never brought it up and just smiled? Why is any of this necessary?

If I do this and think that - is it possible to realize all the things that I have misunderstood about the nature of the world? And if I could is it not possible that my new standards might also be askew?

I'm hunting wabbits on a computer screen - reviewing my words and wondering who might read this when I am dead. And when that day comes I can only hope that I have the balls to climb a huge ladder to a small platform and dive hundreds of feet into a small glass half filled with whiskey. Perhaps my entire body will somehow smash itself completely against the glass, and my big stupid round face pressed firmly to the side.

An audience will clap and a curtain will close. Popcorn bags will tip over and be trampled upon. Small beads of condensation will fall from paper cups onto the sticky floor. People in gray polo shirts and standard issue black pants will put the glass somewhere to be picked up later by a non-specific delivery service.

My moment of glory will manifest on a night that means nothing, there will be no one around. I will be in my glass on a mantel in the house of a friend that reluctantly inherited my finality. He or she will go to the bathroom leaving a curious guest to pick up the tomb, examine my predicament, and do nothing more profound than whisper quietly, "Damn that is some fucked up and freaky shit," only to set me down and tend to more pressing matters like an itch or a bugger.

And the weirdness of right or wrong will remain as it is and as it will always be...