To whom do I speak? 'Twas my question to a dream.
Late into the night we spoke of things beyond our comprehension.
You spoke in awe of things I once believed.
I answered with questions not yet conceived.
We listened to the night and thought of the future.
I heard things from my memories coming from your lips.
Your ears heard thoughts from the future for the first time.
Who is talking to whom? It's a fleeting question of mine.
Where indeed am I standing on this midnight street of dreams?
Are you a figment of my mind, or is it I you imagine?
Perhaps I'm a shadow created by something passing in the night.
When I wake in the morning did I actually “Come into the light.”?
Questions go unanswered, unasked, and ignored.
Theories of life float into my window and walk out of my door.
The people I meet as I walk through my day disappear in a blink.
While the episodes dreamed are more real than I might ever think.~Jay Olson
