What if this is the dream
and real life happens when you’re asleep?
Why do I remember so many dreams each night
but I can’t remember where I left my keys?
Why don’t I have dreams in which I meet Salome
and find ancient skulls in crypt-like depths, as Jung did?
Instead I dream of searching — night after night —
for a bathroom stall with a clean seat.
Why do people always ask if I dream in color?
And what do dolphins dream about?
What if Freud was right?
How many other people’s dreams have I appeared in?
And what was I wearing?
When you reach Nirvana, do you still dream?
And why is it called a nightmare
and not a nightstallion — or steed?
What if the dream needs
the dreamer the way God need our prayers?
And did you have a good night’s sleep?
Tell me, what did you dream?