Sleep and the Dream

If I put lavender under my pillow
will I dream of scented gardens and wake
with buds of thought burgeoning forth?

Or will I become pure of heart as I sleep,
dream of unicorns and virgins,
and lose the ability to dissemble.

Let night rest like snow on my lashes,
harbinger of blindness, stealing colour
from vision.

Imagery confined to monochrome
becomes a dance in line and edge,
defined by illumination, or dissolved
in darkness.

Castenada said to walk the warrior way
we must seek control in dreams.
Find hands and guide them, till lavender

becomes a field of flower shapes
blue and purple against grass,
snow a geometric lace of ice
entrapping rainbows.