I dream so well, so deep,
sometimes I can’t tell the dreaming
from the living. The rooms are both blue.
Have you ever thought you awoke, only to
find you were still dreaming? The clocks
on the wall melt like Dali.
When you say I Love You, the words seem
slow. If I reach out to touch you, will you
still be there, will you still be?
Press Send Poetry 
Temporal serendipity – your last post aligns so well with the Art of Really Living manifesto. Thanks for sharing your work! – John