One dark night in the dream,
I searched the realm of
black light and blue skies,

An aviator,
The Cracked Iceman,
beaconed me.
The performer are assembled,
he sang softly from lips of red.
I questioned,
Why was the play necessary?

He pointed his spherical ray pistol at me saying,
Journeyman, we must perform. Time awaits us both.

Crackles of black lighting struck all around.
I observed large hands suspended
form heaven
building an invisible construct.
Its meaning was veiled.

My ears filled
With an audible hum,
revealing an airplane straining
to free itself from
unearthly strings.
The aviator,
With eyes full of fire, cried
Are you hammer? An Anvil awaits
In silence.

Ghosts whispered
words look on form.
A falling curtain signaled my return
to sleep.
As I exited the colorful stage,
I heard a host of hands
clapping a cadence of
joyful applause.

S.L. Dickey