“I’m not irrational. But there’ve been times When I’ve experienced—uncanniness: I think back to those days, when, four or five, I dreaded going to bed, because I thought Sleep really was a ‘dropping off.’ At night Two silver children floated up from somewhere Into the window foiled with dark, a boy And girl. They never spoke. But they arose To pull me with them, down, into the black That brewed deep in the basement. I would sink With them to float in nothingness. Each night For a year, or maybe two. It was a dream You’ll say, just a recurring dream. It’s true. (And yet I was awake when they came through.)” 
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