I dreamt

I dreamt today a dream I dreamt last night,

A blurrèd wash of scenery and sight:

Two helices entwined with not a seam

To spiral up and up into night’s gleam.

And I, on its high peak, at such a height

Could see the source of boreal ur-light:

It is a thing that’s not what it does seem

As hid in sheaths of softly rustling dream.

So dream I do, in my unconscious state,

And watch these dreams imprint my mind’s stained slate,

While real and false each other rearrange,

And know I not what should I now to feel,

Reality transposed to realms so strange—

This life is dream; or what I dream is real.

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