The DreamTime

Go inland an hour, then turn north. Go past the Orlandomegalopius and stay west of the cape. Go on through Payne’s Prairie and past all the gators. Somewhere up there, where the Suawanee River slowly flows through an ancient land of Spanish Moss there is a DreamTime place.

The world is more silent up here, and it turns more slowly. The days are more pleasant and the evenings always fade slowly under pastel gloamings. There is no time here, only flowers and trees and the sand and the sky.

The Temple of the Universe is right next door and there is a cat called Charlie and a dog named Solo and an unusual house with a screened-in room and a wood burning stove. And a very, very fancy guest house.

Outside are some grapefruit trees and orange trees too, and camellias and kumquats, and zen-like garden places, and here live royalty. Yes, this is the home of the gracious Queen Annabananna and her regal escort, the Olé Goaté .

Spanish moss is out of control, falling from the tops of tall trees clear to the lariopie down on the ground and the grass is strange and sandy, and the back roads seem not to matter. Swamps, or once-swamps, still lace the land although their bottoms are now firm and sandy.

Mockingbirds are singing and the crows call out Murder! Murder!, and there is the scent of flowers floating on the air along with the woodsmoke. But the songs and the sweet smoke don't go anywhere, no they never leave here. This is the land of the DreamTime, and nothing "real" ever happens here. How wonderful.