At night when I get weary
my body in need of  sleep,
when yawns make my eyes teary,
focus I cannot seem to keep.

My mind freely associates,
past and future conflate.
I don’t know if I am too early
or whether I’m already too late.

I drift in and out of dream
unsure of what it is I feel,
reacting to ethereal visions,
positive that they are real.

Writhing in apparent discomfort,
even breaking out in sweat.
Waking to familiar surroundings,
realizing it’s not morning yet.

Submerging into the reverie
over which I have no control.
Looking for hidden messages,
landmarks on the path that I stroll.

Some days, despite their abstraction,
the meaning is perfectly clear.
Not so much a road map,
but direction in which to steer.

Now I pay closer attention
may even wake up and take note,
to mysterious, magical musings,
my unconscious mind promotes.

M. Zane McClellan

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