The Strange World
Of dreams.
It seems the world of dreams,
Some strange and spooky too,
And though they fall in sleepy streams,
There’s always something new.
In and out of fantasies,
Some faces from before,
Oft almost realities,
They float on by the shore.
One moment I am in the past,
Then fly to unknown lands,
It happens oh so very fast,
In sycophantic strands.
My mind is so obedient,
Obsequious and strange,
The dreams are so expedient,
As thoughts they rearrange.
It’s like a magic carpet ride,
Into another world,
In a place that I can’t hide,
Where my mind is whirled.
Falling through the fantasies,
And fiction in strange dreams,
From agony to ecstasy,
Or that’s the way it seems.
Lifted by likelihood,
Let down by lassitude,
Most of it is misunderstood,
By a warped attitude.
Dreams seem to get simmer,
Right before the dawn,
And there always is the danger,
They’re imperceptibly withdrawn.
©
David Rudder
2023
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