This is fifteenth part of The NEXT THRILLING CHAPTER. It’s the utopian chapter. It’s where I get to dream for a little while (but not without a measure of irony) about going home, to where I belong—a place from which I’ve been exiled since I ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.



Utopia (ou topos) means "no place", a place that does not exist. There is danger in believing in, or trying to make real an impossibility. Better, if sadder, to know I’m homeless because the home I dream about never existed. And yet, and yet...

     ... is it not a standard against which the evils of this world may be judged? What avails to be so utterly awake that I’m without hope?

     Yet what avails to be so befuddled by my dreams that I no longer know what’s real.

     What is real, anyway?

     Reality’s what I can’t get away from by wishing or pretending.

     But I can hide behind my hands. Will I be able to keep my eyes closed when reality catches up with me?

     Wish me luck.