One-Dream Child

My son, he thinks he sees a dream
Each night, always the same,
It does not change, not ever; so
Is his sincere claim.

It starts out with a slowly growing
Darkness, vast and dense,
That swallows up his sight as well
As every other sense;

There is no place where he is at,
And no time he is in,
There is no company without
And not a soul within.

Then as it comes, does it recede,
This darkness, vast and dense,
And wakes him up to wonder
Where it goes, or came it whence.

He tells us of this dream he has
At breakfast every day,
Relating every detail in
A most fantastic way.

Someday he'll know his nightly dream
Is not a matter deep;
We just don't have the heart to tell
Him all it is is sleep