On Dreams

Huxley talks about the doors of perception

Something closed that can be opened

Dreams are manifest as elements of story

A dream narrative that ebbs and flows

Through the open doorway.

But,

When you wake and reach to capture the dream

It fades and vanishes

The absolute truth that you held firmly in your fingertips

Slips away and evaporates like summer rain

The more you try to pin it down

The less tangible it is

Until all that is left

Is a vague construct

Of a murmured wisper

In a crowded room

For dreams,

The doors are forever closed

All we can hope for

Is to press our ears against the door

And catch an echo of those hidden secrets within

The dream was never meant to be revealed

It has locked the door

And thrown away the key.