A Vacation of Stupor

Although “dream” vacations usually connote some type of unassailable and exorbitant place—a silky deserted island with euphoric servants and a state-of-the art cabin, wherein only one’s self, lover, family and friends are allowed—my dream vacation is one of enchantment and magic, which only an actual state of reverie can produce.

Fortuitously, I was privileged with the viewing of my mind’s entrancing desire just a moment ago while asleep at the wheel.

My cloistered isle would be nestled tightly between the air slicing the northern and southern hemispheres, perpendicular to the earth’s humdrum surface. Keeping it afloat and intact would be a distinct set of cosmic laws, specially forged by good Friend of mine on a Mac.

Towering in elevation over any and all of earth’s highest places, Sforza Isle would boast an impressive housing community in its sparkling yellow sky. Occupying the largest home, the Sforzas would host tons of movie nights, virgin cocktail and tea parties.

Residents desiring to touch the warm, grassy earth have some control over smaverity (Sforza Isle’s unique gravity). All one would have to do is jump off the atmospheric suburbs and shout “slow!” in order to waft slowly to earth (some have died not heeding this rule).

Upon landing, an inhabitant will be overcome by the scenery of sounds permeating from newly born nestlings, the melodies of the trees being played by the wind, the taste of the air, infused with higher levels of oxygen and tang. Their senses would be so dazzled that they would begin to palpably feel an almost heavenly joy about the place.

As for the Isle’s landscape, that’s for you to dream. Pause a moment. And come here with me.


As for my sanity, I’m a born-again Christian who’s frolicking in language. My hope is in a reality that’s heavenly. Not a dream that’s falsely heavenly. But it was fun cogitating 🙂


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