Dreams can come in various forms,
Generally with a special quality, not norms.
There is the conscious dream, say, a rosy future.
Also dreams of fame and wealth to nurture.
One can also have dreams, whilst asleep,
Pleasant dreams, whilst there is sleep deep.
Dreams can be stuff of nightmares too,
Horrifying, alarming, unwelcome to pursue.
Such dreams do fill one with dread,
Enough to rudely awaken one in their bed.
But the best of dreams, aspirations do cover,
Aspirations, life’s passage, often does smother.

Sammy Somnolent dreamed of success.
Even though his life seemed in a mess.
He dreamed of things that were just not there,
He dreamed of Jeannie, with the light brown hair.
He conjured up a world where he might do better.
But Sammy was not just a dreamer, also a fretter.
He’d worry and fret about just anything,
He’d be consumed with worry should the phone ring.
Then he would fret, if it did not,
Missing on something, this he couldn’t blot.
So many things he could not blot from his mind,
And so many other things, he just couldn’t find.

Thus it went, for year after year,
An uneventful existence, really quite drear.
Then, with the sun up and dawning,
Sammy arose from his bed in the early morning.
“I feel different today,” he thought to himself.
“I feel on the verge of great success and wealth!”
But then he surveyed his dingy room in his flat.
Feeling considerably deflated. It seemed that was that!
“I’m not a go-getter, so I need a stroke of luck,”
“And I need loads of courage, from which to pluck.”
“I’m never likely to be a self-made man,”
“I’ve always operated on a Pay-Later Plan.”

Sammy Somnolent called up his Gran.
His Gran was his one and only fan.
For her Sammy could do no wrong,
Even though she knew he was a drong.
“You should look for a nice job,” said she,
“A job superior to just serving tea.”
“A job suitable for your own peculiar talents,”
“A job that requires great experience and balance.”

“What do you think I could do, then, Gran?”
Playing the role of a snivelling man.
“Who would have me, at any price?”
“Certainly not for doing something nice!”
His Gran pointed to the ad in the paper,
It was most unique, not the usual caper.
“Dumbkopf’s Circus requires a tight rope walker.”
“For a daring act to satisfy many a gawker.”
Yes walking blindfolded from pole to pole,
So much better that being on the dole!
Pay is good, no retirement benefits,
Should you fall off, it’s usually quits!
But should you walk hard, before you fell,
You could do exceedingly well!

So Sammy became an acrobat,
Careful not to fall, and go splat!
He made a name, gained a following,
Perfected his act to include sword swallowing.
He now felt he had fulfilled his dream,
Provided he didn’t fall off and scream!