15/8 05 Dreams

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I began to write my dreams in a yellow book from behind, backward and upside down. In front of the small book I had many years earlier been writing poems about women with names I did not even dare to pronounce.
The transcripted dreams became real by resting on the paper in shinny daylight. Dreams with silent shadows of darkness pulling themselves against the curly feather of paper dust. I am trying to withdraw from my gloomy nightmares into the contrast of sunlight.
One day in the sharp glimpse of autumn season I meet a man who claimed that my night dreams will always crible my future deeds. We began to play with the magic of day dreaming. My nightmares ceased to exist. We were constructing castles in sand and travelled around the whole world. Never again was there any paper between us.
We are now sleeping soft and sound during night. The most precious women mention our names and we take them with us in bed every night. Our night dreams have become reflections of victories in life itself.
Good night.

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