Last night I had a dream shaped like home

The brick and glass center of the world, starting point of all grand adventure

The chameleon texture of the back yard toolshed dancing in the summer sunshine

The chestnut-treasure trees’ extend their arms to me

Each courtyard-stone yearning to skim the sea

A mighty cloud-caravan of many different colors, consistencies and altitudes sail slowly by above

Sunflowers sway in the warm wind

Mum knitting Christmas on the porch, humming tunes long-lost

The world doesn’t sound so bad from within her womb

On the trusty rusty swing set from where I can see my world entire

Propelling myself back and forth thru the strawberry scented air

Meanwhile my mind races across the sky in vessels capable of any feat

A birthday-balloon drifts by, freed from its undoubtedly cruel master

Its barely-noticeable presence on the sky blocking my view of a million billion trillion galaxies

My blondish hair grow a little in tact with the taters in the garden

The enchanting scent of dinner nearing completion is carried my way by a mild gust of wind,

Followed by a summoning I’ve been awaiting eagerly since last night’s dessert

Carrying in his creation, dad, the apron-clad paladin of the stow

Smiling proudly through his beard

Something wonderful is simmering in the boiling cave of the clay pot

The culmination of decades of experimental roasting, boiling, chopping and seasoning in the decidedly baroque kitchen

I’m becoming quite adept at the fine art of transitioning the loaded spoon from the plate to my watered mouth

An armada of temporary teeth chew down on a perfect composite of plants, flesh and salt

We eat in an ethereal and earned silence

Dirt under my nails and dirt in my hair

A bath would be beneficial, mum insists

Warm, but not too warm, water gushes from the tap into the tub

I submit myself to lake porcelain

A bar of soap and a nursery rhyme of hope

Water-splashing, foam-empire-building, body-cleansing, face-rinsing loofah-ritualism

Unscrewing the cork, microcosmic maelström, warm towel embrace

Brushing the teeth of a spotless, spiky-haired boy in the mirror

Carried off to bed in arms used to this atlas burden

Tucking me in-between blankets and mattresses, warm and fuzzy center of the world

Mum and dad, beloved benefactors of my stay in the flesh, sitting on each side of me

A story and a lullaby and a dozen kisses goodnight

The ceiling and their smiley faces make way for far away worlds and unrealizable forms

And right about then I woke up, a long way from home