I am in your dream, and you are in mine.
A dream within a dream,
An illusion borne of the same.
But which of us is real?
We cannot both be dreaming; one of us is reality
One that person's fantasy. But which is which?
Methinks only one can be left upon the morrow.
I can no more wake you than you can me,
Yet here you are before me, fully consious
As am I.
How can we both exist
When we are each the other's imagining?
Is all that we call reality
Merely some Wind Fish's dream?
And when the dreamer wakes, what then?
Will we even notice, having never been?
Having never existed?
Maybe, if our dreams can be so easily wiped out,
Erased from ever being,
It is perhaps better that we hold onto them,
Our dreamworld realities,
All the more dearly
While they last
Because when the Wind Fish wakes,
We will both be gone
Yes, it is supposed to just cut off at the end there. If you don't get why, that's your problem. No, just kidding. If you're just dying to know why I ended the poem that way (hey, stranger things have happened), email me and I'll get you into a corner and begin explaining that it doesn't matter what color the spaceships are, really, green ones are best but really any color but yellow will do... no, wait. How 'bout I just explain the ending of the poem if you email me? Yeah, that works out better.
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