How lifeless must feel
One who does not dream
He must have sadness
Rooted in his soul
He must bear ill will towards his mind
For not frolicking the verdant fields of imagination
Whilst in sleep
The most wonderful time of rest
With no impossibilities
A few nights every month
He must be dull from having to live in the world of the possible
Never tasting the bliss of the fantastical
He is made all the more bitter by having had a taste of it
Before it was so cruelly stripped from him
Once, as a boy he had a dream
He was soaring through the skies
Faster than sound
Rockets strapped to his shoes
He could go where he pleased, as he pleased
It was amazing
Even as he woke his spirits were high
He had not been constrained by the laws of the physical world
And that dream had been beautiful
However, that had only made him even more bitter
It is so cruel to have one taste heaven only to be sent to hell
And every time he woke
Dreamless
He grew dark and resentful
Blaming the world because he had nothing else to blame
He sunk to a pitiful place
Where joy and wonder
Were a very rare occurrence
And he hoped very deeply
Just once
That before he died he could have one last dream