Dream World

I dream vivid dreams every night. I have multiple recurring dreams, and I also have dreams within dreams more frequently than the average person. I often tell friends and family about my dreams each morning, knowing my descriptions don’t do justice to the images in my head. As I’ve grown up, I’ve realized that not everyone experiences such a rich inner world when they sleep.

I call my state of dreaming (rather uncreatively) Dream World. It is usually a reference I make to myself in my own mind — for example, upon waking up from odd, disorienting dreams, I often think to myself, “I need to get up. I’ve had enough of Dream World.” Or, when I’m getting into bed, I’ll think, “Let’s see what Dream World has in store for me tonight.”

My experiences in Dream World are all over the place, but I feel as though they have become a part of me — and given that they stem from my own subconscious, I suppose they are.

All that to say I wrote a little poem about Dream World and some of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences as a vivid dreamer. This is pretty much the first poem I’ve ever written and definitely the first one I’ve ever shared, which is fun.

I wrote this poem in iambic pentameter, blank verse, which basically means there are ten syllables in each line, five stressed, five unstressed. Blank verse means the lines don’t rhyme (at least not consistently — a big ask for a first-time poet).

I hope you enjoy!

There are two worlds in which I live, one is

Reality, the other is Dream World.

Each night, when the day’s troubles and triumphs

Come to a steady close, so do my eyes

After I crawl into my cloud-like bed.

Fluffy, soft, cloud-like bed, comforting, warm

The portal to Dream World I can’t ignore.

As thoughts decrease and subconscious release,

As I sink into sleep, Dream World welcomes

Me, once again, with thrills and ecstasies

Fantasies, whims, places, faces, plots and

Plot holes. Maybe my dreams overlap and

I tell a friend, so curious, so rapt

About recurring themes and recurring

Dreams. But Reality remains far off,

Some distant dystopia, a place real

As Dream World itself. Ah, Reality,

Little you know of what it means to dream.

Your dreams of day cannot compare and your

Visions of future are so unaware

Of here and now, of her right now, though

Asleep, still awake in semi-conscious

State. Dream World, not an escape but a place

I yet not understand and fail to grasp

Upon waking each morn. Quiet music

Pulls me gently out of sleep, out of dreams

Out of rapid eye movement and gleams the

Sun outside my window, beckoning me

Come back to Reality. Some days I

Wish for the mundane normalcy of life

Each day, but there are times when Dream World has

Its hold on me. Either I want to stay

Or my mind is stuck and I can’t seem

To get away, to shake it off, to leave

Dream World’s portal at the foot of my bed.

Thoughts, visions of dreams running through my head

That at times won’t cease even as evening

Wanes and night beckons me come sleep again

And dip my toes, body and soul into

Dream World twice, thrice, over and over and

On throughout the night. There are times I pray

For sladke sanje,* for an easy rest,

One where my mind isn’t infiltrated

By past regrets, future fears, or present

Frets and threats — but this prayer, uttered in

Hushed whispered tones or mindful, mental

Talk, goes unanswered — unanswered to the

Point where I’ve stopped. Instead, I have learned to

Embrace Dream World with open arms and a

Curious mind because I realize

That Dream World is a scene not many are

Privileged enough to visit, that my

Name sits at the top of her VIP

Guest list — Dream World’s own aristocracy,

And oh how I tell peasants of all the

Wonders, thrills, weirdness, whack of Jack, Zack, Mack

To both my fellow dream makers and my

Jealous dream takers, ravenous for last

Night’s dreamy, dumb, half-remembered delights.

Perhaps they’ll giggle, or perhaps they’ll frown

Perhaps they will grimace and wiggle at

The very thought, the very sound. Or, they

Look at me, bemused and perplexed, in shock,

Delighted, amused, confused, possibly

Snoozing again, and at the day’s end, as

Reality wanes at the foot of my

Bed, after a day of pinching myself and

Trying to shake dreams out of my small head,

Quick sand from bed and star dust from heaven

Anoint my nightly rest, preparing for

Dream World to whisk me away to the shore

Of imagination I so adore.

*The phrase “sladke sanje” translates to “sweet dreams” in Slovenian. I was inspired to put this phrase in Slovenian for two reasons: (1) I am half Slovenian and wanted to incorporate that into this poem and (2) because this little phrase was a part of the bedtime ritual my mom and I had when I was growing up.