I know the reason now for the dream.
For some reason I wanted to go halfway
But when I got to the road
I saw it.
It was a cut straight up and down from my home
Into the valley, prostate
And straight up again through a Cut.
The gears of the car were whining
on the way down and I knew that there was no stopping or waking up or turning back so I woke up because it was what a real nightmare is which is the approach of death as a certainty.
I ought to paint a picture of my dream.
Painting pictures is a happy thing to do.
I want my nightmare to be beautiful.
Like it was driving down the Pennslyvanna Turnpike
With no margin of error in the snow down a long way when we were together and there was no past or future and it was what a trip really is.
"Dreams are dreams, ailment
And day is day.
The dream upon awaking
Slips and fades away.
Damned is the dream.
The dream you prayed would stay."