Disclaimer: don't own Dream, not the Dreaming and not the real people. The
first two are Vertigo's, though the latter belong solely to themselves.
Tomorrow
A Sandman poem
By Joan Milligan
The millenium turned in the realm of the Dreaming.
The year 2000 had started an hour before,
And in the heart of the realm, five silent figures
Stood ready and eager to enter the castle
That lay and awaited, with ease most unsettling
For the passage of the next one thousand years.
On the gates stood a Wyvern, a Gryphon and a Pegasus
And at the figures looked down grimly,
Till one of the gate guardians spoke.
"Follow the flame, and do not stray from your path,
Our Lord has been expecting you all.
Your claims will be heard."
And thus, four of the dreamers
Stepped forth and entered the castle fearlessly
And the fifth sneaked behind them to follow the flame
And went unnoticed by any.
Flames crawled on the sleek marble floor
Leading the figures - four men and a girl -
Into the very depth of the castle
Where a throne stood; eternal and proud
And on the throne there appeared a sixth figure
A tall man of skin as white as ivory
And eyes that reflect the most distant of stars
Looking down at the figures, he bid them all welcome
As the girl crawled into the darkness of the room
And waited for something great to come to pass.
Anything great.
The four men moved forward to kneel
Before he who is lord of the castle and realm
Yet he asked them to rise, and bid them to speak
"You have not come to bow to me. No one has yet.
Speak your hearts and I shall listen.
You all have been expected here tonight."
Thus they rose; and if frightened, it did not show on their faces.
But they stayed still and hesitant.
Till one walked forward and spoke to the Dream King.
"Lord! I have come, since this year has arrived
And certain thoughts trouble me on this day.
You would remember - you gave me a gift
Many ages ago, when I still walked the mortal plain
And promised me, one Jules Verne, the secret of tomorrow.
So now I ask, Dream Lord, why does the conundrum
Stand yet unsolved? For yes, my tales
Of machines of tomorrow have all come true
And men today speak of them as reality
But Lord, the tomorrow that I had in mind
Was marvelous beyond thought and great beyond dreams
Was fair to behold - and most inspiring
Yet, today all my dreams are but uninspired reality,
Familiar to all and magnificent to none.
Where is my tomorrow, Lord, today?"
The Dream Lord nodded, but made no reply
And his eyes merely sparkled as twin stars
As the next man came forth and spoke his heart.
"King of Dreams! You would do well to remember
The year of 1949, when I
Came to this realm requesting a boon
That you would let me give warning to my fellow men.
That one George Orwell might tell of tomorrow
So that mankind would know what it must not let happen
How dark may their beautiful tomorrow be
It was a gift granted, oh Lord - inspiration
And the power of writing were at my command
Yet stories are stories, and reality
Does not seem to have changed - men still lie, men still hate
So that, Lord, my warning failed, and tomorrow
Is as bleak as I sought it not to be.
Thus, tell me, oh you who are king of illusions
Is this the only tomorrow there is?"
The Dream King made no movement, said no word
Not to approve and not to disapprove
Only his star-eyes locked on the next man
Till he stepped forward and spoke out his claims.
"Lord of Dreams! It is me, yet another dreamer
Whom you gave a gift thirty-odd years before
To try and spread a word through the craft of the arts
However, my words might have seemed quite different
Back when I asked for them to be heard!
Yet today, This one Gene Roddenberry is remembered
As one who has brought millions hope of tomorrow
With something as small as a television show
For them - for all mankind - I created utopia
But not merely, Lord, to entertain!
How far-fetched may this fantasy had seemed
Many hoped it to someday come true.
Yet today is 2000, Dream Lord, and yet
My bright tomorrow has yet to arrive
And I, who gave hope, am swiftly losing it.
I sought a bright tomorrow, and millions with me.
Will it ever be found, Lord?"
A smile seemed to flash on the Dream King's pale lips
Yet he made no reply; merely indicated
The next man, who, after hearing his companions' claims
Seemed somewhat shy, but spoke nonetheless.
"Sir! It would seem that my claim might seem lesser
After all you have heard from these people tonight.
I was no visionary, and gave no warning
Nor hope. All I have done, Lord, was write.
You, who gave me, one Isaac Asimov,
A gift many years ago would know
How I wrote of tomorrow and dreamed of tomorrow
And hoped for tomorrow all of my life.
And with me, Lord, six billion now dream
Each in a fashion different from the rest
Of a better future that might someday shed it light
On their dull, brief lives; they all dream of tomorrow.
And I, who have sworn myself to tomorrow
Am starting to fear, Lord... that there is but today."
He finished his words, then, and the Dream King
Rose from his throne and looked down at the men
And for a moment seemed pondering, considering his reply
Until he spoke to them in a tone
Neither comforting nor disappointing.
"I have heard your claims, and remember your gifts,
And truly wish I could change what is
But in truth, sirs, I can't - this realm of dream
Is not one to interact with the realm of reality
And thus often the dreamers are disappointed
Because their dreams have had no effect.
I would gladly give you dreams of tomorrow, good sirs
But what is - is, and that is all there is."
The four's faces fell; none of them said a word
And by truth, they seemed ready to both cry and leave
And then the Dream King's gaze shifted
To a darkened corner in the room
Where the girl was listening in absolute silence
And summoned a light to glisten on her features
And spoke to her in a voice both booming and soft.
"You came here as well, with those four,
Yet I do not remember you, child, as a barer of my gift.
Speak your heart." And the girl rose up, and did.
"Dream King! I came here to ask to be blessed
With the same gift you bestowed on many men
Of creativity, the gift of the Word, in hopes
That this new young one be great as these four!
And yet now, Lord, I take back my request
I do not wish for a pair of dream-wings
For I live the tomorrow these writers have spoke of
And tomorrow never comes to my world
And it would not, Lord, for all that they wish it,
And I believe that the answer in known
This matter is one of an excess of dream!
Wings granted so powerful their barer was carried
Far away to the sky, until he left the Earth
Behind, and drifted along with the dreams
So that the Earth was not his to change,
Not his to effect - and one cannot bring tomorrow to my world
When one lives it in a world of dreams.
Thus I renounce my request, oh Lord
So that I may remain on the ground, and have power
Over the world - and the power is there
Tomorrow is ours for the making!"
And before the four writers' amazement-filled eyes
The Dream Lord smiled at the brave young girl
And *did not bless her*, and instead sent her back
To a world of fear and blight and despair,
To a world of pain that must be healed,
To a world of wrongs that must be put right,
To a world of people that must be led to believe
That the future is there waiting to be brought,
With two feet on the ground and the mind in the skies
To dream - and make dream and reality one
And aye, God willing, to bring on tomorrow!
"If you can dream - and not make dreams your master
If you can think - and not make thought your aim..."
Rudyard Kiplin -- "If - "
End
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No, I don't really think I can do better than these four writers, but it WAS my idea... (
Tomorrow
A Sandman poem
By Joan Milligan
The millenium turned in the realm of the Dreaming.
The year 2000 had started an hour before,
And in the heart of the realm, five silent figures
Stood ready and eager to enter the castle
That lay and awaited, with ease most unsettling
For the passage of the next one thousand years.
On the gates stood a Wyvern, a Gryphon and a Pegasus
And at the figures looked down grimly,
Till one of the gate guardians spoke.
"Follow the flame, and do not stray from your path,
Our Lord has been expecting you all.
Your claims will be heard."
And thus, four of the dreamers
Stepped forth and entered the castle fearlessly
And the fifth sneaked behind them to follow the flame
And went unnoticed by any.
Flames crawled on the sleek marble floor
Leading the figures - four men and a girl -
Into the very depth of the castle
Where a throne stood; eternal and proud
And on the throne there appeared a sixth figure
A tall man of skin as white as ivory
And eyes that reflect the most distant of stars
Looking down at the figures, he bid them all welcome
As the girl crawled into the darkness of the room
And waited for something great to come to pass.
Anything great.
The four men moved forward to kneel
Before he who is lord of the castle and realm
Yet he asked them to rise, and bid them to speak
"You have not come to bow to me. No one has yet.
Speak your hearts and I shall listen.
You all have been expected here tonight."
Thus they rose; and if frightened, it did not show on their faces.
But they stayed still and hesitant.
Till one walked forward and spoke to the Dream King.
"Lord! I have come, since this year has arrived
And certain thoughts trouble me on this day.
You would remember - you gave me a gift
Many ages ago, when I still walked the mortal plain
And promised me, one Jules Verne, the secret of tomorrow.
So now I ask, Dream Lord, why does the conundrum
Stand yet unsolved? For yes, my tales
Of machines of tomorrow have all come true
And men today speak of them as reality
But Lord, the tomorrow that I had in mind
Was marvelous beyond thought and great beyond dreams
Was fair to behold - and most inspiring
Yet, today all my dreams are but uninspired reality,
Familiar to all and magnificent to none.
Where is my tomorrow, Lord, today?"
The Dream Lord nodded, but made no reply
And his eyes merely sparkled as twin stars
As the next man came forth and spoke his heart.
"King of Dreams! You would do well to remember
The year of 1949, when I
Came to this realm requesting a boon
That you would let me give warning to my fellow men.
That one George Orwell might tell of tomorrow
So that mankind would know what it must not let happen
How dark may their beautiful tomorrow be
It was a gift granted, oh Lord - inspiration
And the power of writing were at my command
Yet stories are stories, and reality
Does not seem to have changed - men still lie, men still hate
So that, Lord, my warning failed, and tomorrow
Is as bleak as I sought it not to be.
Thus, tell me, oh you who are king of illusions
Is this the only tomorrow there is?"
The Dream King made no movement, said no word
Not to approve and not to disapprove
Only his star-eyes locked on the next man
Till he stepped forward and spoke out his claims.
"Lord of Dreams! It is me, yet another dreamer
Whom you gave a gift thirty-odd years before
To try and spread a word through the craft of the arts
However, my words might have seemed quite different
Back when I asked for them to be heard!
Yet today, This one Gene Roddenberry is remembered
As one who has brought millions hope of tomorrow
With something as small as a television show
For them - for all mankind - I created utopia
But not merely, Lord, to entertain!
How far-fetched may this fantasy had seemed
Many hoped it to someday come true.
Yet today is 2000, Dream Lord, and yet
My bright tomorrow has yet to arrive
And I, who gave hope, am swiftly losing it.
I sought a bright tomorrow, and millions with me.
Will it ever be found, Lord?"
A smile seemed to flash on the Dream King's pale lips
Yet he made no reply; merely indicated
The next man, who, after hearing his companions' claims
Seemed somewhat shy, but spoke nonetheless.
"Sir! It would seem that my claim might seem lesser
After all you have heard from these people tonight.
I was no visionary, and gave no warning
Nor hope. All I have done, Lord, was write.
You, who gave me, one Isaac Asimov,
A gift many years ago would know
How I wrote of tomorrow and dreamed of tomorrow
And hoped for tomorrow all of my life.
And with me, Lord, six billion now dream
Each in a fashion different from the rest
Of a better future that might someday shed it light
On their dull, brief lives; they all dream of tomorrow.
And I, who have sworn myself to tomorrow
Am starting to fear, Lord... that there is but today."
He finished his words, then, and the Dream King
Rose from his throne and looked down at the men
And for a moment seemed pondering, considering his reply
Until he spoke to them in a tone
Neither comforting nor disappointing.
"I have heard your claims, and remember your gifts,
And truly wish I could change what is
But in truth, sirs, I can't - this realm of dream
Is not one to interact with the realm of reality
And thus often the dreamers are disappointed
Because their dreams have had no effect.
I would gladly give you dreams of tomorrow, good sirs
But what is - is, and that is all there is."
The four's faces fell; none of them said a word
And by truth, they seemed ready to both cry and leave
And then the Dream King's gaze shifted
To a darkened corner in the room
Where the girl was listening in absolute silence
And summoned a light to glisten on her features
And spoke to her in a voice both booming and soft.
"You came here as well, with those four,
Yet I do not remember you, child, as a barer of my gift.
Speak your heart." And the girl rose up, and did.
"Dream King! I came here to ask to be blessed
With the same gift you bestowed on many men
Of creativity, the gift of the Word, in hopes
That this new young one be great as these four!
And yet now, Lord, I take back my request
I do not wish for a pair of dream-wings
For I live the tomorrow these writers have spoke of
And tomorrow never comes to my world
And it would not, Lord, for all that they wish it,
And I believe that the answer in known
This matter is one of an excess of dream!
Wings granted so powerful their barer was carried
Far away to the sky, until he left the Earth
Behind, and drifted along with the dreams
So that the Earth was not his to change,
Not his to effect - and one cannot bring tomorrow to my world
When one lives it in a world of dreams.
Thus I renounce my request, oh Lord
So that I may remain on the ground, and have power
Over the world - and the power is there
Tomorrow is ours for the making!"
And before the four writers' amazement-filled eyes
The Dream Lord smiled at the brave young girl
And *did not bless her*, and instead sent her back
To a world of fear and blight and despair,
To a world of pain that must be healed,
To a world of wrongs that must be put right,
To a world of people that must be led to believe
That the future is there waiting to be brought,
With two feet on the ground and the mind in the skies
To dream - and make dream and reality one
And aye, God willing, to bring on tomorrow!
"If you can dream - and not make dreams your master
If you can think - and not make thought your aim..."
Rudyard Kiplin -- "If - "
End
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No, I don't really think I can do better than these four writers, but it WAS my idea... (
