I hate my dreams
dark, desperate, terrifying ordeals, things I can’t forget even when I’m awake, glaring into my mind when I shut my eyes
or worse
dreams about other lives, better lives, things I can’t ever have, glimpses of happiness
vivid memories diverging from history, old faces made new again
things I never want to wake up from, always cut short, never more than half remembered shadows
days, weeks, whole years and lifetimes go by
when I wake up, sometimes, I can’t tell, can’t understand why things are different
I wander in a daze for minutes, maybe hours, before I can sort the dream from reality
forever on the edge of memory
recalled by old songs, conversations overheard in passing, the casual lean of an object, or a wrinkle in the bedspread
only rising to mock me
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