Daydream

What is a daydream but spinning a tale in between dimensions.
I pull myself up short, chiding the air for dreaming.
But isn't the dreamer, the same knower of the dream?
Whether I made this dream or not,
I am the maker of nothing.
I've always wondered if the dream spirals away,
In an energetic whirl,
And catches the eye of some other dreamer.
Or flashes off slowly,
Like the sound trail of a crystal bowl.