Dreams, Where Do They Come From? Poem by john tiong chunghoo

dreams, where do they come from?
a colourful buddha smiling in his
shapely flowing robes so friendly
on a bed and disappearing into no trace
as i come to have a closer look of him
an antique i had thought a porcelain wonder

is he the harbinger of the dream?
and bed bed bed so many antique beds
in so many styles and shapes
they look so inviting with their ample space

and the name Mizuko, yes
that's the name of the shop
and as i am about to leave
a woman in err flowing bridal garb
i wonder i remember the dream rightly
dreams are always such that you cannot
remember all
and oh yes she comes walking into the shop
and as she looks, i awake in another world

the buddha, the beds, the bride
the myriad questions that pop out
of my head now are a million lotuses
that beg for an answer from the heavens
with their colourful lustrious wide opened hands