I’m prone to fantasy and I have a vivid imagination.  My visions are not of mystical places on far away worlds, but perfect places that only exist in our minds.  I curl up in my bed at night and there I am, in my wigwam in the woods.  In my dwelling, the one that I constructed with just the materials in the local forest, it is my sanctuary and I am at peace with my environment.  The richness of the fantasy includes the sweet songs of birds, the earthy loam of dirt, the chill of the winter air, so many visceral things that make my dream hut perfect.

My love of playing tennis is apparent by my constant need to play.  Few people know that I visit the grass courts in Newport News, the one of the few old clubs I have not visited.  It’s the 20’s and tennis is the new rave.  The members all dress in white, in their proper tennis attire, and me, the black sheep of the club are wearing all black.  There are always muffled whispers as I pass, some praising my tennis, others condemning my foul attitude.  Then the tennis game begins, and all are quiet, for all the derision turns into respect as my tennis game goes on display.  They witness unearthly spins and power, movement beyond comprehension, and a un-returnable serve.  It is a perfect game at a perfect tennis club, because it is mine!

Gardening is one of my passions, but in my fantasy world, mankind has toppled the modern world, and we have slipped back to a time before industrialization.  My backyard farm is a source of both power and weakness.  The excess food supply allows close friends and family a place to eat and be safe.  This extra man-power is used to defend the homestead and the food stores.  I clearly set up traps and weapons to defend my house and prepare my family for any form of attack.  It’s my feeding the local dog pack that gives me the most security.  They consider me part of their pack, and their leader, Duke, stays at the house with me.  Even after the fall of governments, my post-apocalyptic homestead is perfect.

I’m a gamer and have been playing D&D for more than thirty years.  I never dream about the fantasy realms that I campaign in, instead the magic and abilities from my characters invade my day-to-day life.  I’ll dream of me fixing my house using the magic organ my Bard character has, or control the minds of my neighbors with a handy cantrip or blessing.  The dream of healing an injury just by laying hands on the wound occurs often in my passing dreams.  Mainly, the magic and power of my gaming characters, is transferred to me and what I had difficulty doing over the last week.  It turns a loss into a victory and makes it a perfect place to visit and heal. 

The places I go in my mind can never take the place of hugging my children, or feeling real earth on my hands.  I don’t think I use dreaming as a way to visit more places, I think I use it to find relaxing places in my mind, places I can go no matter how things are.  A vacation in the middle of a mental storm, a warm place to go before sleep, or something else, I’m really not sure.  What I do know, is that I have been visiting these places for a very long time, and they remain perfect and waiting for my next visit.