Dreams are Fantasies – by Angie Neto

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A world discovered in the twilight hours

when the brain lies fast asleep,

or is it really sleeping?

 

Can the visions you see through closed eyes

be a world you wish to explore?

Is it you that you see in the dream

or someone you’d like to be?

Are you escaping from reality

for just a moment in time?

Do you find the answers to all that you seek

when your eyelids close,

or are your dreams just fantasies

lived in the stars in the twilight hours?

 

You stand on the steps of a crowded courtyard

dressed in a tailored grey jacket and skirt,

aware that your toes are pinched in your six inch stilettoes,

watching the other grey suited people

inching their way through the crowds,

all trying to hear and see.

But what you ask yourself …..

A hand gently touches your elbow

and swiftly guides you aside

through an unseen door in the greenery.

You’re led down a corridor.

 

“What is this, where am I?”

You ask the stranger by your side,

a woman dressed almost the same as you,

a kindly smile and eyes of blue.

She nods and gently leads you on

down winding stairs

illuminated by a strangely glow.

Should I be afraid?  But no ….

 

You step into a marbled hall,

your heels click across the floor.

An open door across the way

beckons you to come this way.

 

The woman gently pushes you inside

and steps aside to let you see

a world so different from whence you came.

The marbled hall with ceilings tall

now replaced by a grotto of strangest hue.

 

You marvel at this scene so out of place,

rough earthen walls but soft to touch.

A spectrum of colours dance above

and drip their radiance to the floor.

You poke a finger into this light

which dissipates at your slightest touch,

leaving a trace of finest dust on your finger tip.

You stare in awe of all you see,

unanswered questions hang in the air.

 

A kindly old gent steps forward and smiles,

acknowledges your presence with an unsteady bow.

A child in the corner with his head bowed low

scribbles furiously upon brown paper scrolls,

words you can’t see from a pen with no ink.

 

His hand moving swiftly from right to left you see,

confusion questions the reality of this place.

The child glances quickly into your face,

lips unmoving he says your name,

bends his head and writes again.

He races to finish your story.

 

The woman by your side speaks into your ear.

“We knew you were coming”

The old gent does say,

“We waited and watched for a year and a day.”

“Now look into the mirror”

I heard them say.

 

An image transformed stared back at me,

a translucent beauty so strangely bewitching

who moved with an air of grace and charm.

Through the mirror I did see

a world so different now for me.

 

On the marbled balcony I stood

staring down onto the gentry walking by,

but in the throng of people that I saw,

he stood out independently and tall.

I gasped ….. He turned,

his jet black hair and steely eyes;

that jaw line etched in princely form.

 

Why he stopped and looked at me

I could not understand,

but holding out his hand to me

he called my name ….

“Angelica!”

 

The child appears and hands to me

my story now complete, it seems,

as the Prince beside me stands

and with my hand in his he turns the page

to our life lived in dreams and fantasies …..

 © 2014 Angie Neto

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