#68: Dream Headings Warrant No Dreadings (Aspirations)

You Can Bring Along New Dressing
For All The Wounds From All Your Guessing . . .
And Pack The Phone Booths For Confessing,
When You've Lost Your Way . . .
But Your Blurry Vision's Messing
Up Your Gift, Or Granted Blessing.
When Your Goals Are Not Coalescing,
While You Might Be Cured One Day,
You'll Find That Constant Course Regressing
Is Only Halted When You Stay.
Or:
Find A Dream And Dream It!

Well, it wasn't like a sign post, or
the usual turn of tide,
but all at once, the Carriage just
took us for a ride.

Now, as I recall, though maybe I'd
be better asking Jo,
we started drifting sideways, then
we scooted to and fro.

I never checked with Jo to learn
exactly what he drew
as feelings and impressions from
that scene came into view.

And crazy as it sounds today,
to hear me think this thought,
it's clear to me that we'd have been
quite lost, had we not caught . . .

a glimpse of open field and sky,
like out of some strange dream.
I remember feeling yearnings for
that meadow and its stream.

And running through the entire field . . .
not straight, but clearly strong,
we saw a fence that seemed to keep
both sides from running long.

That is, it seemed to make both sides
trade better looks, I guess . . .
like each was seen from over rails
as through a looking glass.

And even though the fence would wind,
and never straight and true,
it never seemed to fail at what
we dreamt that it would do.

But all at once, the anarchy
of flight began to quell,
and we were back on track without
effect from the sliding spell.

Much later, like a long while past
the time that we returned,
I remember asking Jo just what
he thought that we had learned.

And whether we had gained it then,
or picked it all up hence,
we both decided that we felt
we needed such a fence . . .

that as we saw it from above,
it felt a little nice . . .
like something we were after might
be worth the sacrifice.

And yet, it's clear that all that scene
was nothing but a dream,
and so we then decided that
we knew what it could mean . . .

that even though your goals are not
much more than dreams and fluff,
they're the things that define tracks . . .
direction, and that stuff.

But, so we glided back on track,
and found our way on to
another State much weirder than
that one for flying through.