dream vision

Cobweb of visions It was a clear day, perhaps too lucid mother sat in the kitchen, sunlight made her white hair into a halo I asked how old she was, ninety-two she said I knew I was trapped in a dream, she didn't live that long By the slow-flowing river, I saw furniture drifting down my brother said people who lived downstream went upstream to buy pieces of furniture at a factory that made them cheaply to save on the cost of transport cost furniture bought were dropped into the river, where relatives of the downstream dwellers picked them up Sometimes a table or a commode was lost, a risk they willing to take I knew this was a dream, he was telling a joke, which was odd since he died, a long time ago I was walking along a soft forest road when I noticed something was not right, a strange red light emitted among the trees making the forest mysterious I was trapped inside a painting by a mad Russian by breaking out I destroyed wonderful art the painter's name was Fjodor his surname, was too difficult to remember. It is dawn, but I'm not so sure, reality can appear confusing so early on a Monday morning, or perhaps a dream doesn't care about time