Enter Dream Girl:

Caped crusader of the world

Of vision, premonition,

Randomly fired neuronal activation. Oracle, oneirophiliac, offerer

Of answers to any question that you’ve dragged into sleep:

Change jobs? Choose a suitor? Get a degree?

With a flip of her cape and another of her flowing tresses — flip, flip, flip,

She’ll send forth a dream

Replete with answers (though disguised in symbol and forgetfulness).

Find Dream Girl in her nighttime palace

Beneath a crystal dome, lit by the gleam of midnight’s star-freckled cheeks.

Her sheets are stitched from moon dust and memory,

Her forehead is dotted with an emerald or sapphire

Glowing from her never-closing third eye.

You fly in your dreams from time to time? She flies

Asleep or awake, up to her Pantheon of gods and helpers:

Morpheus, Phobetor and Phanteus … and Daddy of them all, Hypnos.

Then there’s Jung, delver into the depths of consciousness

Explorer of the universe of the universal. She’s attended by angels

Of creative genius: actors, artists and writers,

Who make dreams incarnate and shower them on sleepless mortals,

Thirsty for imaginary waters. She’s a cosmonaut of consciousness,

Champion of creative solutions to plaguing problems.

She can leap tall buildings without ever leaving her bed,

Is beacon of truth and guidance,

Maps mysteries and invites you

To do the same.