It's a house of many rooms

When it first appeared it was haunted

Ripped curtains, torn upholstery, and filth

The house only had a few rooms open, the others with doors locked solid

I drove the ghosts out, even as they claimed to be family 

Nightmares never last

A childhood holdover to refuse creepy dreams

Semblance of Lucidity

I know when I am Dreaming... sometimes

The house's rooms are now open

They shift and change, adding to itself, always building

It shouldn't seem familiar when it sprawls wide and fat

Including tree forts and grand staircases twisting to nowhere

Odd apartments where I scrub and clean

Sweeping away the cluttered junk in my mind

Some nights I'm a child 

Running with packs of children that I almost recognize

Upstairs and down 

Through mismatched patchwork rooms

It's always the same house

No matter what house I dream of 

When I know it's the same one.