Proof of Solid Ground

I've massaged the bellies of every kitten I've never seen.
It happened in a dream I dreamt I hope I'd have.
Where every flower shrub and tree was portrayed in a tasteful green,
Enveloping the spitting image of pristine.

But dreams die when dreamed on the fly,
with no temporal window to unfold.
Catalyzed and synthesized,
what's left, certainly, cannot grow.

I've lost all hope of gaining My Home,
On the hunt of some ethereal Goddess.
But once the sum approaches one,
My Soul will rest upon laurels of Solace.