-in the dream-

In the dream, its much like it is
in the poem. anything can happen.

There may be birds and there may
be something far more terrifying.
There may be something you’d
never considered in your waking life.
Visions of your mother feeding you
black milk or your father coming
at you with a dagger. Diggings
into your chest in an attempt to find
your heart that reveal a withered
white and puss-filled sack,
more like a miscarriage than a brave,
beating vital thing.

In the dream, it is much like it is
in the poem. You find yourself
walking in green fields, sun
on your face, only to fall off
the edge of the world
like you did in a video game you played
while you were still a child.
Rainbow roads fade and evaporate
just as you were approaching
the checkered flag. The end doesn’t
matter as much as how you got there.
Journeys and childhood games
look less alike than they really are.

In the dream, it is much like it is
in the poem. There is no end in sight
and it lasts much shorter it seems.
You feel your way in the dark,
some unknown watcher guiding
your hand. Pressure nonexistent
yet you are drawn into the depths
of yourself. Finding all manner
of creatures and thoughts
believed extinct or mythical.
You find the leviathan. He swallows
you whole. You are in his belly
with a candle. You find that ancient
fear, that archaic flame. Where is the guide?

In the dream, it is much like it is
in the poem.