The Necessity of Dreaming

I have told the artists in my classes

My self is not a mountain peak;

It is a floating island.

When I fall asleep, it sinks beneath

The surface of the infinitely

Compassionate water.

Mermaids in their denim overalls

Swim through the passageways,

Adjusting dials and gauges,

Filling tanks, and singing, each to each,

In a language I cannot understand.

If I were not to dream at all

(The brainwashing experts say

It takes only seventy-two hours),

My self would disappear, or drown.

In the morning, trying to remember

Details, I hear the Muse,

Rushing about her house,

Pulling down the blinds

Before I can peek inside.