I try to think of all the things
That happened through the day,
But consciousness spreads out its wings
And soars itself away.

My eyes roll back inside my head;
I heave a heavy sigh;
I settle snug into my bed;
The moments flutter by.

Distorted time frames twist my mind
And seconds seem like hours.
Lifetimes pass in a single dream
With psychedelic powers.

In my dreams I’m but an actor
Inside an endless fiction;
I can’t control what I will do
For I have no jurisdiction.

Dreams can be stories within other stories
That entertain my sleep.
Stories of thoughts that churn together
Then rouse to dance and leap!

How sweet and lovely are some dreams
That come into my mind—
Ones that tell of heaven’s beauty
And true love people find.

Yet other dreams are terrible
Of death and blood and war;
They make me want to never again
Dream anything anymore.

But mostly, dreams are obscurities
With meanings I can’t define—
Themes that don’t make any sense
And scenes that don’t align.

Some people dream in black and white
And some in vivid hues.
Me, I’ve dreamt both colorlessly
And in greens, pinks, and blues.

Some say dreams foreshadow what
A future life will hold;
Others think they’re memories
Of stories our past lives told.

I think that dreams are glimpses of
Mind’s great capacity—
They’re inklings of how marvelous
Subconsciousness can be!