What did you dream of just last night?
Was it in colour or black-and-white?
Did you dream of love, or might-have-beens,
half-remembereds or never-seens;
a dream of despair for never wills;
of derring do and unlikely thrills?
Did you fall or did you fly?
Did you wake up, asking 'why'?
Was there water, still or rapid,
or a scene from the day, mundane and vapid?
Or maybe a fire, the burning house,
something philosophical, from a talking mouse?
Was it a knockabout, slapstick reel -
Sigmund and Carl's id-ego deal?
Or was it Fred Perl's gestalt divine?
(what a thing to put before swine!)
Did you sleep at all? Was it a trick?
Are you a wakeful lunatic?
But no, we know that Kant be,
you wrote the script - I think you see -
it's not random and you've been caught:
you are an intrepid oneironaut.