Dreaming is Real

by Julian Palmer

(note: this was written as a transcription of a very vivid dream - however most people understand it as a poem!)

In the Victorian landscapes, like Mansfield after fairy tale keeper scenes, where my mother lives alone, and my family visits our Almost Impossible tales.

I am out stalking greens, time and trees of life for foods of god for cars.

Inica is rhyme and there, tarts atare and arch type of hippy van stops and spreens we only run on love fuel to go forurther.

Inica sweeps by with quests her eyes so know much and more.

I am at party 1,6 and 9, and she is at each one, talking to my family and they are sizzling my fantasies they think, catching foot drops and enveloping closer in together roads and trees.

Inica stresses the fallacies of fantasy, and beas the clap and bounce of realities, stretching and showing her muscles fine like silk teflon flexamine.

And I have found, in houses complexes, a water palace beyond, a tall spiraled water of life slide.

Inica trounces, buns baking burns aturn. She says now you can have me this night, what you only want, you one of them, for give an blend.

Unblinkered listening walking ahead, yes, always wanted you, real as true, your stories in your trees of life as with you and you and you.

My family and her sails up the stairs, a DNA strand away cares, stating me's of some things glees.

So far past my sadness I have come, to touch her shoulders rights with finger tight.

Maybe I love you too much to allow you to be truly true you.

At the top of the tardis tower I end alone, and there are beds and trays of water and wine and fruits and vines.

The family bears bearing need come in with growls, and I find the food aflies for all they want to leave and see them away clouds to and mains scene.

Crowlings upside deck lays straight fanned on Inica's bed and I move to the water trays to eat more greens; parsley and broccoli I really do need to feed.