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.