In youth a pocketful of dreams were easy to possess. These coins of the Universe of mirages, hopes and shadowy outlines of potential being becoming actual had a luster to them such as Salvador Dali’s surrealist situations personified. Dreams of a world of excellent people and forthright character, dreams of an idealist fulfillment of the sublime and beautiful hopes of Utopia; we found these dreams filling our pockets and so easy to spend until the marketplace said they were counterfeit or of confederate currency.

The pocketfuls of dreams had no value in the marketplace that knew all such coin was minted in racism and segregation, for non in the real world could dream such peaceful and hopeful things. Valid dreams were nightmares it was known. Christian dreams of faith indicated spoiled hopes for dependence, the real world knew that God had no interest in the affairs of humanity, and that expressions of faith and trust were counterfeit minting efforts seeking to capitalize upon the gullibility of those not converted to the rugged evolutionary church of dreamless immorality.

The unexamined life of a pre global; warming world surging to apocalyptic meltdown was a background wakening daydream that industrial captains of politics and glory had no investments in. Dreams that weren’t tangible such as American auto-dream production models 60 through 2010 were in some way filtered through communist programming. Incessant foreign wars in remote high plains called hundreds of thousands of warriors to search for a hundred Al Qaeda devils seeking to become suicide bombers and trainers of suicide bombers that invariably yell ‘God is Great and we aren’t’ before pulling the ripcord upon existence. Government and broadcast realists formulated the deficit expenses of political surrealism such that the value of dead foreign fighters was approximately a million dollars each. Such efforts to pacify distant high plains contended with the dreaming of dreamers that yet had half a pocketful of the currency of unlimited change for the good that only required downloading into production by politicians.

We learned of a world named Gaia and a Dr. Lovelock 90 year old space high frontier traveler who believed that the increase of global warming would endanger the survival of the human race. That was a scale of dreaming we appreciated. It is true that its a dystopian daydream of a planet actualizing its own intelligence, yet the location of the daydream on the outer half of a typical elliptical galaxy that I like to call the Ghenna Nurage would merge into the Frank Herbert Dune landscape of dreams with some Northern and Antarctic survivors in some branches of pattern realization of material worked under the industrial smithing of carbon dioxide emission and ecological habitat insult.