Dream Time and Return

I have just returned from there--the Dream Time,
Where each instant is a grand knowing
But of late I seem to find
Getting there's harder, and returning rougher going,
Than it was before I worked for a living.
Once there the walls are gauze, and melt.
Here there are takers; there, each stranger is giving
And every face acknowledges it is yourself
Simply dancing otherwise.

You walk there among forms that are just knowings
The spirit I among the endless possibles, all just right,
All true. The thought is the act in staying and in going,
The walls newly known as they are met, the night
Newly seen dark, the day newly seen light.
Each step gliding, each embrace flowing
Each surprising vision a known sight.
One thought,   a sunlit season's sowing.

In the dream-web thoughts become real
Where souls are as open as your own mind
The days are scripts of the heart's feeling,
You are the author of the rattling time.
And even at the boundary, coming home to land
The blending confusion of transition remembers
Who defined the winds, and decided the sand
And when the flames should be, and when the embers.
What is it, then, convinces you
When the snoring stops and pillows grow hard,
That anything else must now be true
The playground now a prison-yard?

What single token in the shift of times
Betrays your own large knowing
That colors or pain are powers of one mind
Its single grace endowing
On the hard boards and cold kitchen walls of morning?