The Mad Prophet

I dreamt of the mad prophet ...again. I dreamt of him, and I saw him. I saw him...in a mirror... in my dream. I saw him and I saw his eyes... the fire that burnt in his eyes...his fire and his madness. I saw him and he looked at me. He spoke to me as I looked him. He asked me who I was... if I was the voice in his head. I told him I was a dream, and that he was in my dream. He laughed, and he told me that mad men do not dream. I told him I was not mad..but he replied that he was mad. That he was mad and could not dream. I asked him if he was the prophet I knew. He said that he did not know. That how could he be a prophet... if he did not dream...since he was mad... and mad men did not dream. He spoke to me and laughed at me. He laughed at me because I did not know... that mad men did not dream.