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Words and Music by David King

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Songs, fiction and the occasional recipe by David King

Impossible Dreaming

The End.  Dream big!  That’s what I say.  I know I’m not the first to say that, but I’m probably the first to shout it at the top of his lungs on a crowded bus.  I could write a book about all the things I dream of doing.  Or, at the very least, a tidy manifesto.  Perhaps the biggest dream I’ve dared to dream is to start my own church, a church that offers devotees a chance to walk in the clouds with Jesus, or if the skies are clear, go with Him to the beach.  Some of the things I’ve dreamed of doing are things that I maybe should have already done; for instance, take a picture of my girlfriend riding a Unicorn so that I can prove to all my friends that I really do have a girlfriend.  Plans?  I got plans,  Big plans!  Take a look at my calendar, first Saturday in August I have pencilled in: Beach Picnic with Wu Tang Clan.  Wishful thinking?  Perhaps.  I’ll let you know.  And would it be too much to dream that someday I’ll play in a band with Paul McCartney and it’ll be me who everyone refers to as the cute one.  I also harbour dreams that I’ve already realized like beginning a written work with ‘The End’.  Done and Done.  Time to dream on.  Dream of a world revolution after which I’ll retire to Florida; or if that’s too square, move to the Yukon and have a big old Lesbian for a best friend.  Time travel, anyone?  First stop 2003 where I intend to foil the plot to assassinate George W Bush so that he could go on to become the greatest American President ever.  Then I’ll go back further in time to kill Hitler’s barber who apparently put all those crazy ideas in his head.  And who doesn’t dream of being a Hollywood Movie Star?  I see myself playing a compassionate hit man who, before dispatching his victims assures them that “this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”  I’d also direct.  Why not?  And have Sarah Bernhardt play the love interest (see time travel).  I’m pretty much resigned to never being a great athlete unless I’m abducted by aliens who, just for laughs, pump me full of alien vitamins that make it possible to jump higher than anyone has ever jumped.  Too bad my favourite sport is football and not basketball.  But imagine the havoc I could wreak as a running back.  I may not be fast but defenders would have to get on each other’s shoulders to bring me down.  But let me come down to earth and dream a humble dream like getting a job on a road crew as a flag person; and when I’ve had enough of that, I’ll just stick out my thumb.  Or perhaps honour the dreams of my grandfather by just making it through another day.  Too much to ask?  If yes, fuck you.  And on a more selfless note, dream the dream of a better world or, at the very least, a fresh start in an alternate universe.  Wu Tang Clan, consider yourselves on the list.  Dear reader.