Michael McGuire The Things Dreams Are Made Of
I cant remember the dream I had last night, but it went something like
this, she was the only light in the tunnel, and I fawned for her kiss, the
morning cut thru us like a shiny blade, and the newly woken dreamers
forgot, like the lampposts grasping circle of light, we can only see our
frozen lot, somewhere a child soars on an eagles back, somewhere
gleams the image of right and wrong, reality calls to the high priest of
the universe, the night will wait but it wont wait long.
I am awake but I’m still dreaming, as the dark spot moves across my
brain, carry me thru this dark night,and this dream I cant explain.
There she was on my pillow, I’m shining silver she’s coming on gold,
my eyes are open but my eyes cant see, I was bragging to someone
about a lie I told, and there goes the pangs of desire, hurt me so bad
almost like real pain, but the curtain is drawn in the sea, that divides
the water from the rain, the floor of the building moved from
underneath my feet, parts of an illusion are in play, and this night
really does last forever, it’s just occasionally interrupted by the day.
I am awake but I’m still dreaming, as the dark spot moves across my
brain, carry me thru this dark night,and this dream I cant explain.
There’s my limping fragment of flesh, drawn into the slumber that
feeds it, this is my hopeless night of nights, this is the only time when
time needs it, move to and fro in relative motion, in the dream the
chair was in the wrong place, their is some kind of huger in an empty
chair, I’ll never forget that horrible face, and what about that dream, I
believe she is awake now, as these dreams try to wake me up, I don’t
know when and I don’t know how.
I am awake but I’m still dreaming, as the dark spot moves across my
brain, carry me thru this dark night,and this dream I cant explain.
Dreams are made of..........
april 87
