Dream wishes

I had a dream the other night.

While walking along the shore of Roaring Beach, I came across a curiously shaped bottle half buried in the sand. I dug it out and, while rubbing the darkened glass to cleanse it, a genie appeared and granted me three wishes.

Immediately, my first wish was for all the old growth forests of Tasmania and the world to be protected from the destructive practice of clear-felling and napalm ignited burn offs.

Poof. It was done. And I breathed a great sigh of relief for the trees.

Emboldened by the seeming power of this genie, my second wish was for all the peoples of the world to be united in peaceful co-existence where army tanks rusted into oblivion, “love” was the only four letter word ever used, social justice was the norm, religions and science learned from each other, and, every individual recognized their connection to the whole like pearls to a necklace.

Poof. It was done. And I was moved to tears and wept that such a joyful manifestation of the world could become a reality.

“Wow”, I thought, this genie’s good.

For my third and last wish, knowing of the genie’s immense power to manifest one’s wishes, I decided to move away from the grandiosity of global concerns and concentrate on just me and “my” desires.

This took a little longer. I hemmed and hawed, fidgeted, and felt a little guilty about using this last wish just on my own selfish needs. But the genie reassured that this was really okay. One for all, all for one. The macro in the micro. The heavens in a grain of sand. You know, that sort of stuff. Whatever is me could be shared with others. Etc. Etc.

So, I closed my eyes and listened to an inner small voice and heard its concerns. The dialogue within me was dealing with the aftermath of my recent hospitalization coupled with turning 65 this year. Basically, for the past few months I hadn’t been feeling as lovable or attractive enough as I once might have felt in my youth (in photo with dark hair at age 16).

And the prostate surgery certainly didn’t help my sense of feeling sexy.

“Okay”, I said, to the kindly genie waiting patiently for my third wish. “Grant me this: May women once again look upon me and find me very desirable and totally irresistible.”

“Your wish shall be granted”, the genie extolled before returning into the bottle.

Poof. It was done.

Within seconds, I was turned into a bowl of chocolates.