I dreamt last night
that some friends and I met
in a café in Chicago.
There we chatted, laughed, and told stories
until unbeknownst to me the time came
for my friends to take up and leave.
“Where are you going?” I asked them,
“You’ll see, just wait there,” they replied smiling.
I sat on the plump red sofa in that café
for a few minutes more, when from the crowd
came my two friends once more.
They returned with three tickets,
and joined me at the seat,
whose arms protruded from its back
and buckled us in all quite neat.
Then out of the café did we fly
Without even the bat of an eye
for that flight was without motion
as we disolv’d without commotion
and soon I awoke as if from a slumber
conduced by jet lag, on an expressway
riding in a small bus, further from the city where I belong’d.
Then suddenly we came to our exit, and rounded a bend
going down a road lined with hedges
that seem’d to go on for no end.
Then at their conclusion, we did find,
what appear’d to be a train station
situated atop a hill, the tracks cover’d by fog
“Welcome to Glenview,” said the driver,
yet this was not the Glenview that I knew.
Heaven forbid it! I looked at my watch
and recall’d my calendar
that in the city I had to be
in less than an hour.
In a sort of panic I awoke,
to find myself confounded
haunt’d by what was but a dream.