Sturgeon's Law

I dreamed that we were all living in a post-apocalyptic world based on poetry. Almost the entire world was ice plain, with only a small channel of ocean around the equator. The poets were broken up into two feuding factions, one group living on the northern ice and one on the southern. My companion and I, living in some kind of fur tent or hovel or igloo, read in the little propaganda newspaper that there was great anger because [poet's name redacted] had been recruited to move across the channel and was now writing verses for what the paper referred to as "The Antarctic Ulcer." At that point in the dream, my dream self knew it was a dream and thought it would be funny to tell [poet] about it when I woke up--I later dream woke up in the dream and tried to tell [poet] about it. Anyway, still in the dream, I walked out of my house/whatever and found that I lived right on the separating channel, which was narrow enough for me to jump across and full of little icebergs I easily could have traversed if it weren't forbidden. I could see [poet]'s new home directly across the way but couldn't get there or shout across.

When I woke up, I actually laughed aloud for dreaming of poetry as two literally polarized wastelands, vast and empty.