My thoughts ebb. I lie still under the sod of sleep. Is it my soul or subconscious mind that wakes up? This is a voyage through the fjord in the dream-light. I’m free, and as light as a *water strider. This landscape is beyond what a man believes real. I was sipping warm tea on a rock before the dark women plucking green leaves. Even when the elephants chased me, I felt a horrible thrill. Transforming through time, my midlife dreams are marvelous. Never pooped, I travel pop-eyed. I sometimes see the same place I had seen in my dream. Where will I be taken tomorrow? I long for that traveling delight. First published in The Literary Hatchet. *water strider is pond skater.