Dreams

The sleepy, I am olive, live in the dreamworld of the 888,

this is where they soar this is where they roar, slippery 

for the above the body, others who cannot understand the sleepy,

they know not the Matrix; invisible threads seeping through fibers

inside their 'being,' appearing as calculated risk.

If one walks down streets and challenges the air,

defies breathing in a conceptual way, they are moving out of the 'M,'

into the certified being of allure, in a semantic fashion, one complements

the stars and the moon; an expansion of the self into cosmic

consciousness.

Dreamscape offers one the opportunity to tap into secrets

of the underbelly, it is where two poisons can combine

without ending anything, where fantasies are reality,

joining of souls and astral travel, to visit other souls

 across the ocean.

Dreams are subconscious entities playing out to the patterns of 

sleep-being, induced and welcome or unwelcome, 

we meet our ancestors and meet with the crossed over,

open soul opened gateways of our life 'being,'

cosmic shifts occurring in the vortex of absence,

time and space matter not we drift through the quality of 

our proclamation, incessant upon learning is the soul

that guides us home, into the ether, the 1972.

We conclude that dreams are portions of non-reality,

yet, what if the dream was the true expression of the self?