Rested head on the brim of sleep,
My sleep seldom becomes my own.
It’s rather a soaring urge,
Which compels me to break into dreams.
Setting this wild horse free,
As it gallops through my imagination.
For in this freedom of wild dreams,
Within it I feel as one.
And it is in this that your sweetest tears and lonely fears,
Are stretched by one’s subconscious.
One moment in thrilling heights,
The next surrounded by phantoms.
And I wake up, out of the nightmare,
Rather into a real one.