This is not my dream, but the dream I dream about
In my dream I fall asleep
sleep stalks and mugs me
I am sliding over the floor facing upwards
the floor is as rough as the sea
while the air that supports me syrups my glide
over a yawning clawing surface
I make a hat with my fingers,
as although it hasn’t happened yet
I don’t want to bang my head and keep worrying about it
and steer myself about more or less
just slightly below the satisfying
and could be invisible it’s difficult to tell
because the dreamiest of architectures are helpful
they never get further away
or trick me by changing
the makings of dreams come true