They were inanimate.
They'd just lay around the house
and were only useful
when we'd physically
touch them.
I decided
they were
boring.
They needed life.
They needed a personality.
I could give it to them.
The cheese in the fridge
had mold.
I ordered it
to cut the mold
out.
It woke up
and did exactly that.
I focused on my stereo.
It came on
and played some soft
metal music.
It smiled
as the tunes
grew louder.
Before I knew it,
the whole house was
alive.
It was breathing
and dancing
and following my every
order.
This was,
of course,
my dream.
But this could be
our reality.
Our minds
possess
this power.
We are too dumb
to believe
this.
Not me.
Just look at my pen.
It wrote this
entire poem
without me
lifting
a finger.
Believe me.
This dream is real.
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