The Dream and the Truth

The dream and the truth I have told those who wanted to listen that once I swam in the blue lake in Iceland and walked hand in hand with a blond Huldra to the dramatic waterfalls asking to appear in a movie; how unpolluted the air was in a night of a thousand guitars. When I deconstructed the truth, I discovered it was a dream created to mask the more sordid reality. Yes, I had been to Iceland long ago, it was raining and cold, the night was unlit I did swim in a warm pool in New Zealand once met a woman older than me and walked hand in hand to a place that had rooms for let, so many rooms but only one roof and little privacy. Bestriding her flexing my youthful muscles, I farted frozen in embarrassment that didn’t help when people in the neighbouring room giggled; the woman said: not to worry, it had happened to her, the thought of this made that matter worse, I fled to the woods hoping to join the Tasmanian tiger. The truth is vital as the world is on the precipice of a nuclear tragedy that can be avoided if common sense prevails, and the war of the world is avoided. If not, survivors will stride in an avenue where leaves on trees are worthless green diamonds Walk to the mountain where a steel door has melted and find inside where the rich with jewellery and Sabre coats had sought safety, but they were so very dead. Walk into the kitchen, open a tin of Paquin duck in jelly eat the last meal before the world is flung out of the galaxy and the story of humanity will be lost forever.