I have dreamed this night of many things:
A clock there was in view
a spoiled child looking through;
for him I felt strange pangs
for through his eyes I saw the world
and longed for something more.
You know not what's in store.
I woke, that world unfurled.
The night before, strange visions seen,
of beehive bombs and odd warnings:
an argument that came to blows
a mountain did explode
an apathetic pizza place.
I could not solve the case.
They haunt me though, and though half-remembered, half-realized, and easily forgot, I do not let myself forget these dreams.
Tale Told 