DREAMS

We live in three worlds:

The real, the imaginary, and the dream.

The real has nuts and bolts and such

And quit clutters our lives with lint.

The imaginary we can fill day or night

With things we like to invent.

But the world of dreams is different

Its neither tangible nor created by us;

It opens without our behest

And closes again without fuss.

It is peopled by friends known long ago

Or by strangers, strangers who came at night.

Dreams mix-up our acquaintances

Until, though out of place, seem right.

Dreams can scare us into awakening

So glad the cliff or lion scene

Was not quit completed, or if so

The lion wasn’t even mean.

Or dreams can send us into a humorous world

Where logic can go or stay,

And we ‘waken ourselves laughing

And wonder why it’s colored this way.

Oh, we live in three worlds here and now:

The real, the invented, and dreams

But in the one we control least of all

Is the one famous for its night-time themes.

– eab, Feb. ‘96