I remember the weightlessness
of the dream, the shift of perspective
how the air, charged with light,
shone between layers of reality
illuminating the darkness
of my skull
That almost-reality
existed in a shuttered corner
of my processing brain
running subroutines
in the basement
of my consciousness
in sleep, it was right in front of me
so much more than a mirage
but the images, false, illusory
disintegrated like spun sugar
in the dull light of morning