Pretending

Each night hours pass
with no reaction
from millions
lying in their beds,
where nothing
outside their heads
exists except as
dreamfuel.  

They refashion
what they know into
nonsense or
perfect sense
without once opening
their eyes to see
how what they’ve made
while asleep
fits into all
they did not make.

When they wake
they may or may not
recall all their hard creation
before falling back
into life as they knew it,

maybe or maybe not
regretting how it dissipates,
but not dwelling long upon it
before rising and moving on.

You see now,
don’t you,
how swiftly
all can vanish?

Go with that.

Pretend
you’re a figure
in someone’s dream
and it’s not long before
an alarm sounds.  

You have little time left
for outrageous stunts
and passions that barely
make sense as they happen.

Do them anyway,
pretending
it will all cohere
when it’s ended,
just before
it falls away forever.