There are two sides to life, it seems—

The world we know and that of dreams.

When night descends then off we go

To another world we little know.

Through the veils of mist we glide

To those places where reside

People we have never met,

Places very strange, and yet

We seem to know the people there,

Of whose lives we brief moments share.

And are we to them their dreams,

And do they wonder what it means?

Often I wish that I could stay

In this strange world so far away.

So what is real?  Sometimes it seems

Not this world, but that of dreams.