The Dream

Lights out.
Night covers me, faint light leaming from the street,
I snuggle down into my covers,
seeking the best point of warmth.
Gazing half-aware at the filmy curtains
letting my mind drift
into the shadows of not-sleep and bare wakefulness,
and my eyes close on their own.
Drifting
deep into lightness, floating on a current
which takes me to a place no waking person can go.
Finding there a place of unearthly beauty,
seeing there people dancing lightly
dressed in fantasitic rich clothing
layer on layer of iridescence
that glimmers under a diffuse moonlight,
their feet make no sound.
Watching, mouth open,
standing on the edge of the dance,
I feel pulled to join then, and do,
swaying awkwardly on feet of clay--
how can I rival their unearthly grace?
Yet I do move, and find joy
bubbling like champagne;
drunk on it, I giggle
and a wizened sprite takes my hand
leads me deeper into the dance, so  fast,
yet I can breathe, for  this is magic.
On and on I go,
until an unheard sound tolls.
The sprite bows, and I shift
back, back to early dawn.
I wake and cry,
"Oh, it was a dream!"
then look at my covers tofind
an unearthly rose glimmering,
a gift from my dance partner.