You are like
Smoke between
My fingers,
Like drops of
Liquid gold,
A love that my mind
Knows so well
But my hands
Can never hold.

If the dreamer is dreaming then where do their souls live?
Underneath the pocket of dust in your closet?
In your soft comfy bed of rest?
In the dreamers hands so you can play with the idea of reality?

If we are constantly dreaming
Then what experiences are we having?

The experience of having a better experience?  

Or is it....
Just a dream?

lightning flashes across the sky like
dreams through space

They make us crazy
We have them in our sleep
We think about them in the day
They make us different
Dreams
What is your's?

It rains.
A truffled scent
glitters
in dead leaves,
naked trees.
Transudation
into the depths
of the night.