The Dream King

I once had a dream that wasn’t quite a dream
In which the Dream King came to visit.

He stepped in through my bedroom window,
Long tails of his black overcoat
Dusting my windowsill
While his feet touched down like silent night,
And he stood tall and dark at my bedside.

His voice was full of stardust,
Midnight, and mystery
As he spoke to me
And bade me come with him,
Stretching out his hand to mine.

I don’t recall his face, but it was handsome.
I don’t recall his voice, but it was deep.
It is his eyes that I will never forget,
Black, shining, and pupil-less,
And like Poe’s raven, they said “Nevermore.”

I hesitated, but only for a moment,
Then my fingers touched his.
His skin was soft and smooth as polished stone,
Warm as the blankets,
And I was comforted.

I rose to his side.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” he replied, and I did.
We floated on moon glow,
And I was clasped tightly in his arms.

He bore me along effortlessly,
He wrapped me with his coat,
A coat that could cloak the sky,
And I peeked out over the dark landscape,
Safe and snug as a bug in a rug.

We flew ever so high, ever so far,
Over pastures and rivers,
Small towns and villages,
Highways and byways,
Until we came to a city.

At last, we came to rest
On the top of the tallest building,
And he held me there under the moon like a lover,
And we looked out over the streets far below
As though we were gods.

I can’t remember all of what he said.
But I remember he taught me to fly.
I remember his laugh like the soft wings of birds.
I remember his touch which was gentle and warm.
And I remember his love, pure and endless as the skies.

The next morning when I woke,
And the dawn crept golden across my face,
I felt as though I’d slept for the first time.
And a smile crept to my lips
Which still burned from his kisses.