Dream
	As I lay sleeping, I dream,
	Or so it does seem.
	All things so solid and dense,
	This is what I sense.
	As I struggle and toil,
	And work the fertile soil;
	I cut, hack and chop,
	And try hard to come out on top.
	Things so real and normal,
	Everything so pat and formal;
	To my best judgement and wit,
	They all seem to fit.
	Then one day I die,
	And I think as I lie;
	Sure enough it does seem,
	It was only a dream.
								Ivan