This is a death dream

In the daytime 

I go to the cemetery buildings 

In search of books 

And never do I find the right one 

I just browse through death books 

When it seems the ones I want are out 

In the night time I go with friends to the cemetery 

And the entire time concerns 

Carousings and adventures within the cemetery 

But all others are insincere and even silly 

Some figures predominate and I compromise my 

Especial meeting to go with them 

I always attempt to get some of these friends to go with me 

But they are afraid 

It seems I do not want to go alone 

And leave each successive night with hopes for 

Tomorrow's daytime excursion to the cemetery 

Last time I was particularly upset 

Despair that the right books will never be there 

Because people will not bring them back and 

My reliance is weak 

I should find a way to require that which I want 

Of special interest in the dream is the night time attraction 

Of particular growing things 

Which previously were cultivated in horror with another 

In the night wanderings I attempt to get back to these to encounter horror 

But they — others are afraid or silly 

And one or two are not 

But show me replicas which are not the same 

This I know and am disappointed 

Earlier for interest I had a wine bottle 

Weird death monsters approached and I admitted them 

As they filed past into my house 

Not the bedroom where others were 

They danced in the living room 

Extremely macabre and death-like moves 

Others saw them and sometime later expressed horror as they left 

Or escaped