and you have dreamt of this before,”
says my dark skull, my eyes groping
for reason in the theater of my mind.

“This is the view when you fly. All just a part
of a dissertation of a man who developed
the method for human vertical landing,”
says the Professor Omniscient of my dark skull.
And my eyes could see clouds, treetops
and a man dropping like lightning from the sky.
To me, the most strangely familiar scene.

“This is the grounds of your elementary school
when they installed these giant metal balls
that go rolling to places: Under the floor,
above the pavement, across the basketball court.
Each roll and turn, part of a mechanism
of this giant lock of a school.

Now this smart backpack kid
runs about the place: From the hallways,
basketball court, quadrangle.
All the while expertly eluding the metal balls
and their—lasers, until he reaches the gate.
He catapults himself above its pointed crown,
landing on that street of San Jose. He would walk

until he reaches a highschool boardinghouse
where he sees a boy consoling a girlfriend
right outside of a familiar restroom.
A teacher was there too after rushing
to academize the counseling.
My mind’s eye, convinced
that this has happened before, recalls not when.

“This is the grounds of your elementary school
when they used to tend crocodiles,”
says my dark skull. Convinced
that this was a dream,
I made a schoolboy jump
at the swampy playground
only to find the water turn red with panic.

“Don’t worry, this is a dream
and you have dreamt of this before.

The boy must have made a mistake here
for safely, he walked aground
in that other dream.”