i. It's a warm kind of rain and a growling kind of thunder, throaty and crackling booms, I've dreamt of this place before, there's this room made up of tall glass windows, outside is a wrap around balcony made up of stone with high ledges, small fir trees grow in between the crackled rock and I'm breathing slow, soaking in the sky's sweat.
ii. Perspiring and porous clouds melt over this broken land and I'm realizing this place lives only inside my soul when sleeping.
iii. It is a hazy painting running over the contours of my unconscious mind, it is airbrushed afterthoughts swirling with watercolor wishes, it is the place where my nightmares breed and my hopes climb trees, it is the place where intuition ricochets off instinct, it is the place that says burn the place down and let your wildfire run free.
Wow, this is mesmerizingly beautiful. I've never thought about writing poetry based on my dreams for some reason, and I've had some amazing dreams! The use of language is amazing and puts my mind right into the world that you created. I'll be sure to check out some of your other works.