Astral travel

I end up covered in stardust
Every time I astral travel
Think it comes out of my ears
As my pillow trips unravel
So I take the vacuum cleaner
And pick up the cosmic mess
With my dreams inside my Hoover
All is fine - nevertheless
Once my dreams get too fantastic
The machine begins vibrating
Like a platypus on acid
Or a cocktail shaker shaking.

Then the twatting thing blows up
Breaks into a million pieces
And the stardust makes my nose
Break into a million sneezes
See a desert made of stardust
Of my lucid dreams cascading
From the inky sky that keeps
All my nightmares from escaping.
Why employ a vacuum cleaner
When the vacuum's dull and dark
If the dirt left by the dreamer
Shimmers with a brighter spark