The Dream Poem
A cinematicc drama begins to unfold
As each scene plays out.
Some so twisted, they cannot be retold.
From where these stories come I do not know.
Is it the sleeping mind that brings them out?
Night after night they continually flow?
They say each item is a symbol.
Some are very beautiful.
Others are just dismal.
There are times when I am afraid to move.
In my sleep is a monster.
My strength and courage I must prove.
Do your dreams have music, color and smell?
Mine are filled with each sense.
So powerful they are too frightening to tell.
It seems I’ll always have this fate
To see visions through the night.
All I can do is lay down my head…and wait.