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Poetry: Dreams are . . .

by A. Jill Gaebel

Dream Journies




What greater mystery is there in life

Than the inner universe of our dreams?

What is this reality that awaits

Where nothing truly happens as it seems.




Consider this strange and surreal terrain

That we so often travel in our sleep

To forge a symbolic and questing trail

To those secrets that we guardedly keep.




As we travel those inner, winding paths

Is it chaos and madness that we find?

Is it truth or delusion that resides

In the deep, dark chambers of the mind?




Is this nocturnal and lonely journey

Meant to strip the layers of masks away?

Does it expose what we carefully hide

From the often revealing light of day?




Might it be possible that what we meet

Is just as real and true as when awake?

Could it be that we meet our other selves

With lessons that we are to give and take?




Maybe our dreams are divinely given

So that we may help our souls to grow

Maybe waking and slumbering states

Are more alike than we really do know.

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