A Wonderful World Of Make Believe

     The night of my spectacularly exhausting seventh birth, I dreamt about an amazing fictitious place. This combination alien looking playground area possibly found within the outer limits of the twilight zone.

     Only kids between the ages of six to eight years old allowed entry into this magic kingdom. False tattle telling (if a kid might be younger or older immediately gauged by an entire super intelligent ethereal being.

     Those small, medium or at large girls and boys got randomly chosen, and then more thoroughly screened to be sure the glorious hoopla reserved for this antsy, bouncy, and rowdy busload of children.

The (deli cut lee balanced) Al Gore rhythm Linkedin to thee entire property, would (upon when came time to bid fare thee well to the spellbinding adventure), a very truthfully comfortable memory.

     Each lass or lad could and/or would never forget the tearful rapture, gleeful enjoyment, and bona fide dazzling exposure to thee most out of this world series of thrills awaiting them, and creating one unforgettable day of fun.

     Prior to taking unescorted leave from siblings and legal guardians, the Crowdsource of youngsters spit out (in zany one direction), the words nah…nah…nah…. nah…nah merrily.

     Each playfully tongue-thrusting teasing Soundcloud could be heard loud and clear as a Liberty bell. Also pinkish puckered quickened rocketmail sans slithering tongues did ecstatically Flickr, when stuck out of mouths mockingly toward older or younger siblings.

     No adult neither yelled, nor smacked us grade school pupils.

     Matter of fact, now where could be seen any person older than the baddest, basest, or biggest brute seen anywhere.

     Thus (like a kid in a candy store) we be bopped, hip hopped, and mimicked jumping rope like cockroaches dancing on a hot stove.

     No rules posted that restricted, outlawed, or forbade anything. Each boy or girl could do whatever he or she wanted without fear of being sent to a chalkboard where a large wad of chewing gum pressed a nose into a little circle, or worse case scenario paddled on the tushy with a weather-beaten paddle. No shortage of stupid rules stated by authority, which made any day in the classroom more unpleasant than a stay in jail.

     Though no grown person in sight, sound, nor spoke, the entire swarm of hive fiving rambunctious sons and daughters held pressed together like beeswax before they went berserk as if a switch suddenly got turned on.

     Some WhatsApp, Uber tingling app plied sensation signal got automatically generated to set the bunched up anxious, nervous, and ravenous first, second and third graders.

As if on cue, they (including myself) all dashed off helter-skelter in different directions. Some knotted clusters of yay high (up the abdominal area of this average papa) practically flew thru the air higgledy-piggledy, and found themselves precariously perched atop the upper most branch of the tallest tree.

No exchange of coins brought this frenzied, harried, and quite pinteresting outlook, whereby spinning, sprinting, and sputtering screeching six, seven, and eight year olds pipe-quacking, rip-snorting, and/or tear upping, all across an automated climate controlled domain.

     The amusement park remained free of charge, and each tantalizing choice remained opened for what seemed like forever. No matter there happened to be so many rides to choose from only the peals of delight echoed across the entire grounds. Silent as an instagram, SnapChat, or ShutterFly created an unmistakable silence. Also, no attendants stood watching in case of emergency to make sure these fancy out of this teeming world of futuristic machines functioned without fail.

     An artificial intelligence prevailed whereby each and every terrific, metallic, elliptic dizzyingly diving contraption seemed to noiselessly shift gears and/or amazingly, gracefully, and magically ease to a stop after a certain number of preset minutes. Additionally, no barrier barred the height, length, scope or width described when one, some and/or the entire field (far as the eyes could see) rose to the heavens or fell deeper than the (contrived) Mariana trench.

     When on a dare traded for pretending to be unfazed, and though usually prone to seasickness my stomach oft times does cartwheels, handsprings, or summersaults. The taste of reflux readily pits my poor tummy on the verge to heave up and arc out partially digested food. This most likely happens to be the most recently consumed meal.

     At the instant when an unseen invisible hand guided this timid eight-year young to step up and secure hisself within any one of these fast-spinning gizmos, no sensation to vomit occurred.

     Actually, no fears found me frozen in place.

     Immediate paralysis always seized this poor boy when he went on outings to get strapped into kiddie-restricted choices.
No iota of panic took place! Yahoo, I shouted with joy.

     The structure and vacuum of utter silence repeated my burst of delight until the bright rays of a summer morning blazed upon the lids of my eyes.