Dreamworlds: by Iain Johnston, Calderbank

Have I lived on this earth before? Why do some sights and sounds seem familiar to me?

Has time opened some fabulous portal or door?

In dreams do I to a far past of existence flee?

Voyaging in infinity, as in the ancient Druidic love.

Thus I dream of ages that are long gone.

Overgrown and forgotten are the well-trodden paths of yesteryears.

Though bright and new where I walk on marble and stone, and now a ruined city, in sleep, gleaming and new appears.

Out of the mists of dream others come, and I walk no more alone.

To jungled lands and desert wastes I wander and rove, or land from the dragon ship on distant shores with Eric the Red. I sail the old Spanish Maine in search of treasure trove, the skull and crossbones banner fluttering and flying overhead, or worship in an ancient secluded, green and pagan grove.

I converse with warriors, beggars, emperors and kings

Come the thunder of cannon, the British square on the fields of

Waterloo.

Then to dance in old Ireland amid the mystic faerie rings

That day at Kittyhawke when the Wright brothers first flew, In bright sunlight, the wind keening beneath their wings.

So! When comes the time of dreaming and night shadows steal

Into my sleeping mind other worlds begin to creep.

Which of these worlds are reality and which are these unreal?

Only that is known to the secret ones who sleep,

Who reside in distant parts where strange planets orbit and wheel.