i wonder what flies across
your mind as you lay and stare
at blank ceilings before the night
sweeps you under blankets and
pillows, and tugs your eyelids
closed with gravity's grace

i wonder if you see strange faces,
or maybe places that you've been,
but probably will never revisit,
i once read you can only dream
things you've seen before, but i
get the feeling your brain has a
way of inventing far away lands
that no one else will ever see

i wonder if you dream long drawn
out adventures or if you skip from
place to place, like an old film reel
with holes missing between frames

i wonder if you wake up scared and
sweating, or if you keep your eyes
closed as long as you can to savor
what's being swept away, or if you
sleep with a pen in your hand so
that you can scribble sacred records
of the remnants from the inbetween

i wish that i could shrink myself
and spend a night behind your eyelids,
witnessing whatever it is that unfolds