You only dream any dream once. If you choose not to linger
Abed awhile to snatch from
Forgetfulness the wandering images which darkness
Has projected -- a confused miniaturist's
Curious masque -- will you get another chance? But then:
Having arrived in your mist-shrouded brain as you slept,
Slipping in under hooded robes as the gatekeeper
Was snoozing, cautiously secretive
Every silk slippered step of the way,
Do these phantom images really wish to be kept? Recalling
That Imperial Forgetter of his dreams
Who needed a seer at dawn to remind him of the form
Meaning assumes all over again every livelong day,
One can imagine why the dreams of a Caesar
Might not want to be remembered. Figures
A-skulk 'mid slinky shadows, materializing
From and then fading back into the dark banks of the Tiber.
Morning passes over the mind vaguely, a coating
Of wax that gums up the works of the biological timepiece.
Therefore you dally with your visions. You can only have them once.
Emperor Godaigo, dreaming of ghosts at his palace in Gaigo: Gekko Ogata, 1890
The dream of St. Ursula: Vittore Carpaccio, c. 1495-1500 (Galleria dell'Accademia, Venice)