I dream of crowds, as though crowds dream in me,
of festivals and parties, pubs and schools.
Sometimes I'm teacher, other-times pupil;
all ages of my life and other lives
I dream at random remix - of the dead
and of the living - there's no difference here
in sleep; and wallets, coats and beddings drift:
a house becomes a mall and all problems
seem shared; quests lose plot but never pity;
and sometimes love and laughter have their sway;
yet other-times the trains run off their tracks;
but dragon masks give way to dog affection.
The matrix comes to lick where it might bite;
and anyway it's all in Queen Mab's night.
.....................
William Shakespeare
Tempest Act 3 Scene 2
Caliban:
Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again. And then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked
I cried to dream again.
...............
Bonus Limerick
There was a young writer named Charity
said tradition and nouveau have parity.
I've read Finnegans Wake
four times, so go shake!
I think I know virtues of clarity.
