- Books, Literature, and Writing
My Dream Within a Dream
One weekend, after working very hard, and my feet and hands, all bleeding,
I took a long look at the job, energy to rob, decided for a nap, was so needing.
Working in the garden, hoeing and planting, is extremely hard, not enchanting,
I was soon in the middle of my bed, after a lot of swearing and much ranting.
Suddenly before me was a long-haired man, clutching a suitcase with both hands,
As I read his mind, a family left behind, his duty to deliver a package, in his plans.
Somehow I knew inside was a danger to reside, a look of determination, so great,
Reaching a bridge, was my privilege, knocked the case into the water, not too late
In my dream, was enthralled, with a new place, after all, now in a red fire ant bed,
Terrible pains, then felt, ant bites below my belt, all speaking a language, to dread.
As I ran from this place, new sights to embrace, airplanes sprayed all, without fail,
No ants alive, in poison not to survive, my plants, few thrived, all crops not so well.
Then I looked up to the sky, was south, as birds do fly, saw an old wall, the Alamo,
Witnessed an army, tanks and men, attacking once again, all Soviet, we did know.
Suddenly bombs blasted everyone, a darkening of the sun, no enemy, all around,
Santa Anna, and his men, routed once again, red stars and sickles on the ground.
As I dreamed within my dream, all did merge as it did seem, seeing a star's light,
The orb was moving mighty fast, was discovered then at last, as a meteor, bright.
Then was realized, was so great in size, striking the earth, all would be destroyed,
A rocket left a trail, exploded very well, grabbed the comet by its tail, I so enjoyed.
In dreams, not everything is so visualized as it seems, in our sleep, it does tell,
Our greatest fears there are realized, where the wild goose flies, as in a spell.
Here enchantment is found, there it does abound, spreads the dark night's veil,
Just for whom, or reasons, why, as beyond the moon, we try, a ringing of the bell.
As morning's rays woke me up, I drank my coffee from a cup, tasted good,
As I yawned and turned on the news, my radio, played the blues... it would.
The calendar read was July, my birthday did so apply, in the year of 1945,
Outside morning's light, appeared to be too bright, an atomic blast to arrive.
Are our dreams a warning sign, or just imagined, or so benign, to ask you this,
Must we look to future times, as a mixture, all in rhymes, or a goodbye kiss?
With each scary scenario, our minds to only grow, our egos all seem to shrink,
As day begets night, in sleep, it's truth we fight, for in our dreams, to be a link.
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