Of dreams and such

Last night I dreamed of violence,
there was blood, slippery, wet
open mouthed silent screams
but dreams, like holidays, or illness
lose impact in transcript
If I were say to you; "Gipsy" you would think
"Gypsy" or Rose lee,
Moth, dark eyes, wanderlust and fortunes
there for the telling, for the taking
in the palm of your hand, dagger sharp.
How wonderful, you'd say,
to sleep under the stars
all the while we lay here
watching the rain blur the view
old friends - they've done it all before -
lost but still traveling, and I have to smile
because non of this is real for you.