Green Dreams

I am dreaming, I think 

I’m dreaming

as I try to separate the layers

of real and unreal,

peel them away like the crinkled leaves

of a cabbage.

I’m peeling off the dark green leaves first.

What lies hidden beneath looks 

much the same as the outside,

a little less battered, more crinkly,

a little paler with some yellow

languishing in the green,

but fundamentally the same.

Now for the next layer.

There’s a drop of water 

shining full of light

and something darker, more solid,

khaki green and brown,

the leavings of some hidden creature.

Another layer reveals the holes

and then, 

the sleepy caterpillar

in his cabbage camouflage,

his dietary disguise,


of eating his greens.

He’s without his pipe, 

without his crown.

So, unsure of 

his identity, 

much less mine,

I continue my peeling

layer after layer until

I get to the heart of it,

the pale, pale green centre

of naive youth.


I will soon understand 

where I’ve come from

and unpack the dream,

find the pipe, put the pieces 


make sense of the cabbage, 

crown the king.


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