On many a night
I dream of you
Being alive

You had been
Thought dead
To be sure

In reality
As in my dream

But your death
Had been proven wrong

A mistake had occurred
A human error
Nothing unreal

As your appearance
In my dream
Real and measured

You emerge
In a manner
Concrete

The scene
In my head
Of a dialogue

On the mistaken
Conclusion of your death

Nothing beyond
The bounds
Of human experience

There is no fantasy
In the fantasy of my dream

Neither angels, nor ghosts
Neither paradise, nor hell

Surprise certainly
There is
And on occasion plenty of it

But then
Who would not
Be surprised

By such a failure
Of death?

Who would not
Be amazed
By life’s concealed armoury?

No less of a surprise
Is the moment I awake

I then realise that your death
Is as real as the end of my dream

And I wonder
If there is not
After all

A hidden secret
Unreal and fantastic
Beyond human experience

Not known
To science or imagination

Whereby a mistake
Of such nature
Can take place

And be rectified
Only in the uncontrolled
Landscape of one’s head

In the uncensored
Domain of ones’ dreams

As otherwise
If in reality
It were to happen

We would not
Be able to cope

With the uncertainty
Of death’s ultimate
Certainty

Yoav J. Tenembaum
©Copyright, 2004

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