My dreams have been strange 

Leaping rivers give way to slick clay- red and thick

I wash and wash until I melt away

In that house, I wander, opening new doors and exploring rooms

Rooms stacked high with towers of books

My bed rest high above my head

Balanced on the book towers, so I climb

Reaching the top my bed is gone

It doesn't matter, I'm not tired 

I leap cloud to cloud instead, landing among water smoke and cotton

My fear of too high, gone, but still I don't look down

I float on a sea of salt 

No water, just salt 

Yet I move through it as if it were water

I find myself awake after a long dive.