Every night my life passes before my eyes,
snippets of daily events,
sewn together like patches of a quilt;
Events normally disjointed
freely and naturally flow together
from one to the next
in a smooth poetic harmony
that makes perfect sense only
in the dreamlike state of my slumbering mind;
A juxtaposition of horror, fantasy, the silly and surreal,
and childhood memories long-since forgotten:
Stresses of the previous day;
Bits of phone conversations;
Pieces of dialogues with my friends, family, and coworkers;
Getting in trouble with my boss;
Insignificant scenes from movies and television shows;
Talking to a descendent of Ben Franklin,
then beating up a celebrity in the elevator;
Being followed home by an ex-roommate,
and the next moment cleaning out the fireplace;
Getting sent back to high school,
and in turn failing all my courses;
Words I wish I had said,
And words I'm glad I never uttered...
Sometimes dreams serve as an escape from reality,
and at other teams, reality is an escape from my dreams.
As I'm jolted back to the waking world by the violent blast of the alarm,
my dreams, encouraged by the momentary diversion,
quickly flee from me like escaped convicts,
leaving no more trace of their existence than footprints in the sand,
washed away by the lapping waves of the sea.