A Choice of Dreams
When I sit down to write again
I find that you have changed -
You are ready to hear
new things, as changed from the reader
I once knew as is an adult from a child -
all head, huge eyes and quick tumbling about
like a bounce-up doll, hardly the same species,
one would think.
Now I must change
to be able to say
what you are ready to hear.
It is as if you sleep
and the world's noise will wake you
if I cannot concoct quick enough
dream reasons to make dream sense
of the newest noises.
Only in shared dreams are we together.
This sleep is our waking
to each other. But old dreams,
old reasons lose their magic and become
part of the noise, like litter
of old newspapers.
It's not that you have changed, no more
than I have. It's the noise that's changed -
it has captured more of our dreams,
the better to masquerade as waking,
the waking that would mock us
with gargoyled distortions of old dreams
clung to too long.
There is no waking, no sleep, only the dreamer
and a choice of dreams.
—Dean Blehert