The Peculiar Dream

Dreams are a window

The Peculiar Dream

Some tingle my senses , and tickle my fright
They enter my psyche , predominately night

They soon come a calling , and whisper in ear
As day turns to night , and the vision not clear

My dreams are an quarrel , a postulation that acts
Consuming my daytime , an expounding of facts

Preliminary evidence , the illusion of trust
Distinguish reality , with a vision of lust

They can't fully be trusted , and sometimes increase
And conceal the confusion , that my brain does release

On more rare occasions , they contain other dreams
And can't seem to realize , their intentions and schemes

So can I be certain , at some given point
That the meaning of dreams , may sometimes anoint …

Another thought process , the next in a line
Of sudden distraction , and the loss of the time

So now it's reality , is ever uncertain
That closing my eyes , does open a curtain ...

To the fact that I dream , or am I just blind
To the spirit of truth , that my conscious must find

So soon my eyes open , and cannot control
The miracle called life , that awakens my soul

Becoming confused , and not overjoyed
That I must now manage , the essence of void

TommyD 3/6/21