I stood before the Golden Gates
To the Garden of Make Believe.
Where nothing is what it was,
Nor ever as it seems.

I reached deep into my pocket,
Took out the silver key.
The one I use to dream with -
The one the Sandman gave to me.

I think of the day I met him,
After weeks of fighting sleep.
"Use this key to live your dreams," he said.
"The ones you wish to keep."

"But if in your most authentic dreams,
You encounter appalling horror -
You must leave the Garden without a moment's glance,
And return promptly to your quarters."