Swimming in the dream, occasional waves of lucidity.
Yet, still, it is the dream; dark matter of mind
There again iconic structures melt into mist.
Another round on the kaleidoscope as calliope themes drift.
I swim, eerily quiet, through gem-encrusted caverns.
Hieroglyphs, familiar yet unreadable,
etched onto walls and crustacea.
Limpid oyster eyes, yes a crust of sleep dust
someday to fester into a luminescent pearl —
buried treasure beyond compare,
out beyond the market universe.
Swimming, a water ballet, intimately aware of
each measured movement.
It doesn’t matter how the background keeps shifting.