Enter Dream Girl:
Caped crusader of the world
Of vision, premonition,
Randomly fired neuronal activation. Oracle, oneirophiliac, offerer
Of answers to any question that you’ve dragged into sleep:
Change jobs? Choose a suitor? Get a degree?
With a flip of her cape and another of her flowing tresses — flip, flip, flip,
She’ll send forth a dream
Replete with answers (though disguised in symbol and forgetfulness).
Find Dream Girl in her nighttime palace
Beneath a crystal dome, lit by the gleam of midnight’s star-freckled cheeks.
Her sheets are stitched from moon dust and memory,
Her forehead is dotted with an emerald or sapphire
Glowing from her never-closing third eye.
You fly in your dreams from time to time? She flies
Asleep or awake, up to her Pantheon of gods and helpers:
Morpheus, Phobetor and Phanteus … and Daddy of them all, Hypnos.
Then there’s Jung, delver into the depths of consciousness
Explorer of the universe of the universal. She’s attended by angels
Of creative genius: actors, artists and writers,
Who make dreams incarnate and shower them on sleepless mortals,
Thirsty for imaginary waters. She’s a cosmonaut of consciousness,
Champion of creative solutions to plaguing problems.
She can leap tall buildings without ever leaving her bed,
Is beacon of truth and guidance,
Maps mysteries and invites you
To do the same.