The silly dream had beaten me
With a big truncheon,
And in that dream, as I could see,
I wasn’t catching.

For in my sleep I told a lie,
Betrayed and dreaded...
I really didn’t know that I
Was so degraded.

I also saw me clench my fist
And then hit out.
It was a kind of twist of wrist,
Unstrained, soft clout.

All of a sudden, from the dream
I would arouse,
But then my eyes would grow so dim,
And I would drowse.

I didn’t walk, but dragged my feet
Along the paling.
I only tried to step on it
In fear and trembling.

I fawned like crazy on the strong,
Stooped to the wayward.
I knew that all I did was wrong
but wasn’t wakened.

It’s rubbish! Half asleep, I heard
My own murmurs,
And it was I, in fact, who had -
That dream. Not others.

When I came round I discerned
My murmur’s meaning.
I blinked my eyes, and though it hurt
It was relieving.

My vision hovering above
Crawled on the ceiling.
Prophetic dream? So here I have
The question sneering.

It gave me shivers for I had
To take decision:
What was a lie and what was right
About my vision.

For if a dream is just a dream
I should be joyous.
But what if it’s the vicious scheme
Of clairvoyance?

Are dreams what our days reflect?
Oh no, I doubt it!
But when I come to recollect
I get dumbfounded.

 
 
 
 

And when I hear: "Burn!" I seem
To have no spirit.
I’ll be ashamed like in the dream
Where I was timid.

Or if they say: "Sing on the beam.
Be energetic!.."
And I will know that it’s a dream
Which is prophetic.