Self Analysis: Dreaming

The clouds were couch and pillows to one weary such as I,
So several times, I sat and looked around
and almost, but not long enough, but just before I lived
springing leaks soon rained me back to ground.

Mist holds not the substance nor the permanence, it seems.
The clouds were tantalizing to one hopeful such as I.
But beds are something that I knew, and should know better.
What made me think that I could touch the sky?