missingspace

In my dreams, I'm outside. Impossible landscapes:
green folding into blue into crisp purple,
browns tumbling into greys and burnt orange,
light and dark blinding me to what cannot be.
As I sleep, I walk, I fly, I traverse whatever boundaries
my subconscious has deigned to invent, letting
unreality take over, as if forests and lakes and rocky cliffs
are my daily walk, not pavements and crossings
and swerving out of the way of pedestrians without care.
At night, I explore as I've never before, not scared
of the wild, the wilderness untamed, danger and getting lost
without hope of being found. I range far, without
fetters, agape at the beauty, the sheer unbelievable beauty.

When I wake, I'm inside, enclosed, four walls,
one ceiling, one floor. Taking stock of reality, for now,
quantifying, counting down, as freedom is coming.