in my sleep, I'm my dream

How do you see me, as I sleep? Is it like how a mirror holds me still? Or is it like a soundless reflection in a water that slowly moves? Or is it simply a piece of object that takes some space here and there? I try to recall, but have no memory of myself in sleep, other than that thought of a light switched off and back on. Strange, isn't it really strange how you see me lay flat right there in front of you and yet not knowing where I journey in my dreams. In my sleep I go to places, many unknown places, where I never ever stepped before. And here I write today of one such place that my sleeping self felt so much like home and my waken self never ever want to forget:

the gap

As the rain drops fill the space between the sand, the earth drown beneath the puddles. They could hardly hear muffled sound of falling drops as the drops hit an already filled depth of restless waters. Shadows of buildings once still and silent now dance on a wavy surface with circles of ripples. Bicycle wheels keep rolling over drowning bits of sand pressing deeper and deeper within the ground. Running footsteps splash the waters leaving little empty spaces for a brief moment to barely breathe. A last wish of the drowning sand as the eyes close escaping from the visuals is simply to listen to the falling rain.