The Dream House

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The Dream House, that was the place
Where first I pondered dream space
Vaulted ceilings induce the dream chakra
Into a state of overdrive, a state of ecstasy
Until finally it fills the room with the biggest dream you’ve ever had
Full high definition, ten eighty p, and eight hours long

Every night the Dream House stole sleep
Filled with piratical singers and questionable swingers
A gift and a curse to be visited so
Frequently falling and failing
But sometimes, and only sometimes
The dreamer would win the battle, would conquer the dream

But the Dream House didn’t give up without a fight
The dreams would return the very next night
And somehow, despite the norm for dreamers
Those in the Dream House would remember
Every single moment
With more clarity than even real life, the dreams burned into memory

The Dream House wore out those within
Smashing their psyche with lack of true sleep
And a deluge of unforgettable scenes
Somehow mocking the forgettable aspects of everyday life
The mundanity of the ordinary man
The battle could be won, but the war raged on

The Dream House was haunted, of that I am sure
The ceilings were nothing to do with its energy
Its palpable presence, infallible and never demure
No, something else was at fault
Another presence in play, and escape was not forthcoming
The Dream House a psychic jail for those unwary

 

New Short Stories Available on Amazon via Five59 Publishing.

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