Where does the light in dreams come from,
here in the dark woods, in the dark cabin,
when rain is falling on the metal roof
and all the lamps are out?

How is it that I can know you in the dream
when I don’t really see you,
when we’re conversing
while both looking at the same object?

What is presence anyway,
and what is absence?
How do we see each other,
how are we seen?
This world is more mysterious
than I imagined, and vaster,
since it also houses the realm of dreams.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 10, 2018