Where else
do we discover
our own truth..
if not in dreams?

To dream..
that is to hold
within thy grasp
the skeleton key.
It pries wide open
doors of our perception..
of our deepest wish..
suspended, by our
bedside.. over
and above
a silver dish.

As our mind
drifts off and
we begin to fall
asleep..
as hypnagogia
dissolves
our selfhood
into
phosphenes.

The next thing
that we know..
we’re wide awake!
The stinging
ring-a-ding
of bone on metal
pulls us out of
worlds that we
were never meant
to stay in..
only dip
our toes into
to then forsake.

The rudeness
of awakening,
however, serves
a silver lining
of its own.

A memory
of what
is naught..
Of us
that never
was..
in some
strange
world.