The truth about dream people

Summoned again from Central Casting you
laugh in the studio commissary as
we traject our waking hours.
Eating; talking. Still
wearing last night’s costumes.

You get the joke: The play’s the thing.

Wardrobe calls, make-up;
the lines you speak, or not.
Cameo or character;
a star turn.

A love scene, or hate.
Murder, or redemption,
or both.

Cue tears. Cue laughter.
Plot does not constrain you.

Special effects,
dizzying; disorienting:
Hitchcock zooms.
Time collapsing, or expanding.
Possibility does not constrain you.

You’ll do it all again tonight.
Camera ready.
Roll sound.

We think we dream you: smoke
of our extinguished bodies; mirrors
of our restless minds.

But you laugh in the commissary,  laugh
and look our way with what
might be a wink that says
think again, that says
you know nothing, that says
cross-fade, that says

  We dream you in our sleep.




  1. Yes. We think we dream … but the dream people, summoned from Central Casting, are amused by us … smoke … and mirrors … Beautiful, Rafiki


    1. Thank you, my friend!


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