The silly dream lambasted me
With a big truncheon.
I seemed in it quite vague to be,
And quite unsightly.

While sleeping, I betrayed and lied,
And ofttimes bowed...
I never had a thought that I
Could fall so low!

I hammered foes with my fists,
And did it madly,
But it was just a kind of twist,
My hands were flabby.

Confused and muzzy, from the dream
I would arouse,
But then my eyes would grow dim,
And I would drowse.

I walked not fast, but dragged my feet
On the beaten road,
And I thought not of leaving it,
To find my own.

I truckled and crouched to the strong,
Stooped to the wayward.
I knew that all I did was wrong,
But lingered waking.

It’s rubbish! half asleep, I heard
My own murmur.
But it was me, in fact, who’ve gotten
This dream, not someone.

When I came round, I discerned
My murmur’s meaning.
I opened my eyes, and though it hurt,
It was relieving.

The dream dissolved - and yet it seems
To be still goading:
It, maybe, wasn’t a usual dream,
But a foreboding.

It gives me shakes as I ought to
Take a decision:
What was untrue and what was true
In this strange vision.

It’s great if it was just a sign,
A timely omen,
But what if in this dream of mine
I was clairvoyant?

Can what I dreamed tonight reflect
My thoughts? I doubt it!
But when I come to recollect,
I get dumbfounded.

And if it turns out that they judge,
“He knew all fully!” -
I’ll feel disgust just as that night
When I deluded.

Or, it’ll be proved that death in fire -
Beyond my power -
I’ll be ashamed just as that night
When I was coward.

Or, I’ll be told, “Sing on the beam -
You’ll be in clover!” -
It’ll also show that my strange dream
Was a real forecast.