When I Dream
By Oscar S. Cisneros
When I dream,
I dream by the waters of wakefulness under slumber's sleepy moon.
When I dream,
I dream of whirlwind-peopled mountains, mountains seen spinning from above.
When I dream,
I dream of a world honeycombed by doors and corridors, keys and keypads.
When I dream,
I dream of hope. I dream of flying, lazily and languidly, over landscapes of my design.
When I dream,
I dream in that frightful world not here nor there between sleep and wakefulness.
When I dream,
I dream of demons who know me by name, of fallen angels drifting through a void.
When I dream...
