centre stage

as in a dream
where no maker
making it
but a making
taking place
where you
a central figure
living it
seems to have
a say in it

as much as real
as it always is
a dream
one must
fall again
a night affair
none can avoid
taking on a journey
no one
has a choice

from nightingales
to nightmares
or absurd happenings
to insights
none of which
your doing
but a reliving
of what
your strange mind
can do

a dream
just a dream
where no one in it
but so real
as if i am there
you are in it
together we interact
with roads
and the air we breathe
but a dream it was

mind oh! mind
how you trick
and conjure
a reality
that never was
giving a realness
that soon
ends prematurely
as waking up
takes over

but little
does one ponder
or question
what dreams
really are
except moving on
or continue
what is
more important
leaving dream forgotten

only, if only…
a dream
being question
what dreams
really are
not the kind of dream
nor why such a dream
of content making
but what
IS really dreams?

so what is dream?
have you questioned?
probably
it is just a sleep thingy
a nightly affair
where one slips into
and wake again
but that is not
where the question
is intended

you never question
nor
are you interested
where the question
can leads you
except for the content
sometimes unpleasant
sometimes stressful
rarely joyful
by the face in the mirror

dreams are
making you
that has you
and me
and everything,
but yet there is none
empty and no-sense
are you then
not interested
what dreams are?

if only you realize
it is the mind
a river of processes
unstoppable
unclaimable
untouchable
impersonal
no you within it
then you would
have known clearly
what is also reading now!

everything
being staged
is but just the mind
– the centre stage of experiences

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