What is your most important dream

My most important dream is an idea
You know... that idea.
The one I revisit throughout the day
The one I write about at night
It is my dream, and sometimes,
I lend it to dank world muddled with water
And sometimes I place it in the dry sun on some summer heat wave
The earth baking with a dust that settles on drying lip

It is one filled with hope
But I dream mostly of safety, anymore.
Quiet conversation in privacy of curious peers
Sitting usually, and so I dream while awake
Of Galactic Stars throwing off lifestuffed dust
That I eat in cooked red-meat from country farm

And I dream of the worlds of the highways
What it means to zip up the pockets so one can fly
But my hands and my mouth are in there
My feet
And I greet few, similarly zippered in trip passing farther

But my favorite dream isn't cinnamon horses or apple orchards
But strength to survive this hard life, long enough!
Of all things, huh?  I want to live...
So that I might dream something wise, one day,
And then the next, and the next, and the next after that
Rather than peddling and watching worlds turn Impersonal and Quick
But blooded and heartfelt just like those cinnamon horses
Just like those apple orchards of amber roses and flowers of deep time.