Poem original by Ahmed Yassir 

I awoke and found myself upon a bed—
and countless beds lay scattered all around me.
Everyone slept in a long and silent valley;
and no matter how loudly I cried,
there was no answer, no hand to rescue me.

I sat there in despair,
staring into the depths of their valley,
listening to its distant roar,
hoping to glimpse a light,
or hear something beyond the endless snoring.

I protested. I cried out.
I spoke the truth with all the strength I had.
Then I understood—
and hated what I had become,
and fled from myself.

I fled into imagination
and exiled myself into madness,
for the madman is free,
while the sane are prisoners.

Let my being be insulted,
let those closest to me lose faith in me—
still, here I am,
standing at the edge of the valley,

searching for another fugitive like myself,
calling out to the awake.

For everything I see from my bed
is nothing but the dull flicker
that illuminates the valley—

a pale light coming from a gigantic screen,
a screen with a wire leading to every bed.

And across that screen,
in bold letters,
I read:

HERE, THEY RIDE THEIR DREAMS.