Ode to Dreams

I dreamed a severed head was in the road;
You chided me for stopping suddenly,
But when I woke with you right next to me
And sleeping very hard, your heart rate slowed,
Your eyelids fluttering in clear Morse Code
(“Do not wake me!”), I felt entirely free
To dream again, discovering the key
To all this gummed-up nonsense. Here’s an ode:

Our minds are stopped up with divided claims,
Our damaged psyches blocking up our pores.
The childhood traumas that the mid-brain stores
Disjoin us from our present selves and names,
While I’m much too severe, and you play games.
I understand my dreams now, though not yours.