Each night each day
I visit places and see faces
long dead and engage
in complex conversations.
The terrain is
variable –
it can be on the
beach
or in large and
indeterminate buildings:
dreams can include
travel on foot
missing plane
connections that are ill-defined
unpreparedness for
examinations
or public
presentations, arrest
for unintentional
gaps in my performance.
No boundaries are
set:
scenes from stored
memories of seventy years.
These encounters and
fabrications
are more common as I
grow older:
they chase one
another through my brain -
children playing in
a maze –
at times in open
deserts
dark and devoid of
sound.
What does it mean to die in one’s sleep?
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