This poem was written by the Light of My Life, Mat Westcott, when we were just beginning to reach out to each other.  He sent it along with a note that said, “This was a dream I had not long ago, a hard one to forget.  Thought you’d enjoy it.

The man has a penchant and a love for lucid dreaming and for the Dream-time.  One time, when the tribe got together to celebrate a milestone birthday with him, Mat asked everybody, friends and extended family, to sing his favorite song.  We all agreed, of course, and he started it:  “Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream….”

We ended up doing it in roundelay.  There were a lot of giggles because everybody knew that it really was his favorite song.

Here’s his poem….



The party was going full blast and friends of many years were all sharing mutual affections.

Suddenly the room was filled with a strange amber-colored light that became viscous to the touch.

Confusion became paramount and we all started to seek a way out of what had become personal bubbles of separation.

We left the house, each in our own direction in absolute confusion and dismay.

I wandered through back yards, laundry lines and over fences, feeling as though all around me was a separate world I couldn’t touch.


I was moving a quarter of my regular speed and all else was moving normally.

Sometimes I crawled, trying to escape my separation from the world.

A group of young men came along the sidewalk and, seeing me in my condition, decided to take advantage of my helplessness.

They searched me for valuables and beat me a bit but got bored and moved away.

I crawled up the sidewalk looking for sanctuary.


I entered a wooded neighborhood of better homes and saw two people approaching on the other side of the street.

A woman was leading a man by the arm.

I wanted desperately to talk to them and forced my slow-motion body to cross the street and approach them.

I confronted the woman and she told me not to bother the man because he was completely at peace, but I insisted.

When he turned and looked up, I was looking into my own face.

My objective-subjective relationship with the universe was totally destroyed in that instant.


The world became a crust made completely of human illusions about thirty feet thick.

I saw a cut-away as a piece fell into nothing.

It was made of art and garbage, buildings, dreams and all things human.

It all began to crack and fall away.

Into the empty my world fell,

One giant piece after another until there was nothing but the empty that is full.


I dissipated and all became the warm consciousness of being…

Nothing more.


by Mat Wescott, © 1999.

Picture credit:  Vitava River Fisherman by Fred Mast via Flickr [CC BY-NC-ND 2.0]


Please note:  If you would like to contribute a poem to this blog, please let me know by leaving a comment below.  I’d be happy to hear from you.

I do ask three things of my guest poets:

  • a poem of your own making that has great meaning and mana for you,
  • the back-story for the poem — what inspired you or how you made it or whatever you want to tell about it, and
  • an image that I can use as the featured photo in the header. (The last is optional. I do ask that the image you share is one you own — either an image of yourself or something that relates to the poem.  If you choose not to send an image, then I’ll go find something that works.)

If you click on this thing –> “Guest Poet Portal” you can submit a poem right now.


Thanks for your visit.  I’d appreciate it if you would drop a note or comment below and tell me your thoughts.


18 thoughts on “LIFE IS BUT A DREAM….

  1. Wow what a crazy dream. I wonder what it all meant…

    1. Hey, Aden:

      Thanks for your visit and your comment. I agree…it was, indeed, a “crazy” dream. I think its purpose, like all good poetry, is to invite you to wonder and to ponder what it all means….

      Please come again….

  2. Hi Netta,
    Wow, what a powerful and enlightening poem written by your friend- so much so that I had to read it slowly 3 times to help me understand the width and depth of this masterpiece.

    Life for many of us can be all a dream. We want things to go in the direction that we desire. But really IS life something that is set in stone? Everything working out as exactly as we had planned? Not a guarantee is my answer. Life may not go exactly as planned for any of us.

    If not for the unexpected twists and travails that we as humans encounter daily, then truly we have not lived a life at all. We all can learn from our experiences – only many of us don’t, doomed to make the same mistakes repeatedly and sometimes out of our own stubborn doing.

    I liked the part where the man, (the storyteller in this poem) encountered a woman leading another man slowly on the opposite side of a street. The first man – the one who was traveling his own journey in life insisted to the woman that he wanted to speak to this second man. She told him to leave them alone, the second man was at total peace. Why do you need to disturb him?

    When the couple then left, the second man turned anyway back towards the first man, (storyteller). He would see in the second man’s face his own reflection. Yet he, (first man and storyteller) became so perplexed at seeing his own image that everything for him fell a part.

    I interpreted this as meaning the storyteller wanted something badly in his life – in a stubborn gesture of defiance determined to set his own path yet in that moment he knew that it would never be. Then he simply dissipated into nothingness.

    Much food for thought as the author of this poem forced the reader to take a step back and assess his/her own journey through life. We may want something badly. willing to do whatever to accomplish it. But if it is not our destination we could spend an eternity trying to achieve this and never be able to attain the particular goal – achievement – path of life that was not destined to be ours in the first place.


    1. Hey Jeff:

      Thank you for your visit and your comments. An interesting take on a most unusual poem, f’r sure. I’ll share your thoughts with Mat.

      Please do come again….

  3. I love the concept of “the empty that is full…” This could express my experience perfectly in those moments when the physical experience blends with the spiritual or soul experience and in this oneness there is rest and peace.

    1. Hey Heather,

      Thanks for the visit and your comments. I love your take on “the empty that is full.” Please come again….

  4. What a nice website full of poems. I could get lost for hours inside the halls of your website. The pictures are soothing also. As a matter of fact, the whole website is like on big theropedic couch. I loved it, and thank you so much for putting this website together. I will be back to see more later.

    1. Tony, thank you for the visit and for your comments! I do appreciate them! Please do come again….

  5. Simply gorgeous.I had to go back and reread it to make sure I grasped what the poet was trying to express. It is quite a beautiful but sad piece as its an accurate reflection of how we as human beings abuse the world that we live in and because we are so caught up in our heads, we don’t recognise the destruction we are causing.

    On a side note Netta, I loved your About Me page and I was left wanting to know more about you and your connection to the world.

    1. Hey Amberlee: I’ll share your comment with Mathew. He will be pleased! Please do come again….

  6. Thanks for sharing the story that motivated you to write this post and the poem.

    I have arrived at similar conclusions. Why do we struggle so hard to achieve things that are nothing but an illusion? I liked your post because it made me think. We should always take a break and step out to observe how we’re running things.

    1. Paolo, Mathew will be most pleased with your response to his free-form poem. I am too!

      Please do come again….

  7. What an amazing website. Like everyone else I had to read it twice just to find my feet. 

    I immediately shared this poem with my wife and she laughed saying she has a dream like that pretty much every other night. 

    Here I am living in my dream world not realizing the impact I have on the world and the people around me and how the people around me can impact my life. 

    I am giving your website url as a gift for Christmas. There are a few people who would love to dive into these poems. Thank you.

    1. Louis, thank you for your visit.  I’m pleased that the post resonated with you.  

      Please do come again.

  8. Awesome poem! I enjoyed the imagery and have sat here for a few minutes pondering the deeper meanings. i think there is a lot of potential meaning, and every person will probably come up with their own spin. That’s the fun of literature, right?

    I find it very interesting that it was born from a dream. I know that the dreams we can’t forget or that keep repeating are the ones we really need to pay attention to most. It’s trying to tell us something.

    1. Theresa, you’re right.  Each person who encountered this poem has their own take on it.  Very often what tone person gets from it is different than somebody else’s takeaway.  (I thought that feature was cool too!)

      Recurring dreams and dreams that linger do seem to be the ones we need to keep looking at.  Myself, I had a recurring dream throughout my childhood of flying up from the mouth of a beautiful valley with steep cliffs following the course of a stream towards the head of the valley. 

      The dream always ended just as I was reaching the head of the valley because every time I got to that point I fell out of bed and woke up. 

      The first time I visited ‘Iao Valley on Maui, I recognized the valley of my dream.  The dream stopped.  I never had it again.

      I almost never leave Maui and, when I am forced to, I do not stay away for very long.  ‘Iao remains a favorite place for me.

      Please do come again.

  9. Jerry McCoy says:


    That poem has taken me a while to digest. I am not sure that I understand all of the meaning but here goes.

    We each live our separate lives but at times we feel as if nothing is connected. We have to look inside ourselves with honesty to find most of what we believe can be replaced.

    The end of the poem struck me more than the rest. Everything goes away and falls into a place where everything from everyone goes to at the end of our lives.


    1. A very interesting interpretation of a many-layered poem, Jerry.  Thank you!

      Please do come again.

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