The Dream

The dream is to be treasured,
more than gold, of secrets
and places where anything goes.

Valuable more than diamonds,
guarded more than pearls,
Sheiks would sell their Kingdoms
to live forever within those worlds.

They come to us unbidden by idea
or by chance, within their hidden
beauty lies terror or romance.

We can fly from planet to planet
or scale the most dangerous of
peaks; we can become all things
beautiful no matter our physique.

We can be light as feathers, as
we barely touch the ground, within
the dream our name can be Odin or
What Ever, perhaps Even A. Round.

With some terror, upon the ledge
we stand as suddenly and without
warning. Under bright skies toward
dark dreams rapid fire on mark as
time flashes by from night to

Dare say we stand by our own
graves as we grieve alone in
mourning; or make joyous
gurgling when we see ourselves

Having graduated at the top of
our class, so esteemed and of
noble parentage be. We after
Oxford, Cambridge or MIT;
a hermit decide to be.

Dreams carry us beyond the stars
past Nebula’s and honorable
little Pluto’s gravitational
pull. I should know, I have
stood upon its small face so
elegant and tiny a place where
starlight is the only light and
night is the only companion.

Dreams launch me into the vast
depths of sea and ocean blues.
I have traversed the great depths
where the pressures are frightening
while learning to converse with a
Mermaid who speaks only Greek or
Latin. She showed me her greatest
treasure which was a pair of
women’s waterlogged shoes.

She spoke of dreams as a dry
lander being when her legs were
instantly revealed; tried on
the shoes a perfect fit as I
smiled and wedding bells pealed.

Immediately, I stood in the
desert where I searched for
lost treasure, where life and
death were granted freely
each with equal measure.

She was there again my
Mermaid beauty as though her
place must near sand;
gains not withstanding, a
space craft came to land.

We hastily boarded as a fire
breathing Dragon dove, hissing
as it missed. We hit the boosters
and swoosh were quick lifters
seeking a safe view from orbit.

She was so close I stole a
small kiss from her cheek,
she turned and kissed my lips
in Ernest who magically appeared
a former friend I held dear;
though I don’t recall ever having
a friend named Ernest.

His lips were soft too and of
a sensuous blue hue, that I
kissed him sincerely in return
which prompted us to land back
in the desert and I yelled we
best run, as a dragon was due
any moment.