DREAM WORLD
M.G. Narasimha Murthy
Sleep we welcome and dreams we love:
They give us pleasures quaint
And thrills incredible
Feats fantastic, Herculean;
Scaling heights, Himalayan;
Flying wingless to land on the moon;
Or plunge into the bosom of the blue ocean –
Scenes bizarre, ethereal;
Merry, crazy, and comical,
Ludicrous and quite trivial
Some weird, dismal, unnatural,
Turn into nightmares, so frightful,
Of glaring swooping and bloody vampires,
Bodies distorted, bleeding, bare,
Freeze our blood and leave us scared:
But such terrors are rather rare.
Sliding smoothly down the stream
Into lower levels, dark and deep,
Maze of memories, labyrinthine,
Of the amazing subconscious mind,
Dreams explore and unwind,
Tensions and conflicts of every kind
Hopes and fears, love and tears,
Simmering hate and desires repressed,
Rise to the surface uninhibited,
In shapes whimsical and bewildering.
Love sublime and Platonic, ideal and romantic,
And passions morbid, Freudian,
Consuming libidinous flames,
Narcissus and Oedipus, intertwined,
Bring images, lurid and strange,
Surpassing Picasso’s abstract frames.
Visions baffling and mysterious,
Reveal life’s texture, intangible;
Elusive dreams and life real,
Dissolve, merge and become one,
And recall Prospero’s reflection -
“We are such stuff
“As dreams are made on;
“Our little life is rounded with a sleep.”