The waves of the ocean interceding my soul . . .
Distant are the mountains. Above the water a floating isle. Upon it, one solitary tree, a table, and two monsters who dine.
At my feet, a purring cat, and my phone is making noise.
Dreams and reality intersect, and my head is swimming.
Count Dracula and Frankenstein’s Monster sit at table, a starving tree their only shade.
“We are the music makers,” says Wonka, “and we are the dreamers of dreams.”
Tale Told 