dreaming (actually)

he dreamed

a dream
of living

and lived it
while he slept

lived
like a full blown being
never knowing
he was not real

in his dream
he knew

the things he did
had substance
meant something

in the dream
of his dream
he dreamt himself
adrift
in the dream

he rose higher

there
the colours shone

the gates swung open

he could approach
but
he could not
step through

one dream short

he was
one dream short

just
one dream
too short
of his own
actualisation

~

Poem #573 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.