Not Knowing Dreams

When I was a Zen student, like 1984, a friend told me "I had a dream, in which before me was a big leather bound book."
"Seems like a Guttenberg Bible," I noted (not his words).
He went on, "I was told it had ‘All The Answers’ in it. But when I lifted the cover, and I opened it, I suddenly woke up. Why did I wake up just as I was about to see what was in it?"
"It’s likely because," I surmised, "You don’t know what ‘All The Answers’ are. You don’t know what ‘it’ looks like, therefore you can’t picture what it ‘would look like’ to see it in your dream."
 

Not Knowing Dreams

I really don’t need dreams,
I don’t even like dreams,
  Least of all my own

I’m asking someone
  "What’s in the portfolio?"
They bait me on,
  ‘Cause they don’t know

A fight begins and I’m pulled in,
  "What purpose this imbroglio?"
They can’t tell me
  ‘Cause I don’t know,
That’s typically
  How my dreams go


That Special Book
  The ‘Word’s’ writ in,
I open it,
  Nothing’s written,
Same as they end,
  My dreams begin,
What I don’t know,
  I can’t put in

I plea and quest and
  Struggle for, because…
If I understood, I’d speak the word,
  Thus knowing in dreams, I’d have no cause,
So happier, at peace within,
  I’d need no more dreams
   To begin