I am daydreaming. I step off a bus and plunge into a sea. Toast pops from the toaster and I hit-the-deck. Under the cherry blossoms tiny faeries tumble down on me, and carry me off into a hemlock knot and I wake upon the couch, spinning. A grab pencil and wield a wand, put on a hat and sprout ibex horns; I am slipping my pants on and army boots, and march off to the Western Front. Through the closet there’s a hidden door. I set down myself right through the floor, and tip the world, I’m suddenly having tea with geckos and tilt again I’m having coffee with friends. I am daydreaming. I am shooting arrows from Orion’s lap and chasing clouds upon Ziz’s back and meeting the monsters beneath my bed and chasing fireflies around in my head and I am daydreaming, as I said.
You should be daydreaming, too.
It’s the only way to fly.