Funny how dreams create themselves
Out of random thoughts and incidents
Which occur, obscurely during a day.
They are stored away for future use
And show up in strange nighttime
Ramblings appearing oddly pertinent.
In the first few waking moments of a day
A series of scenes re-run like movie trailers
Briefly making sense, then becoming inane.
How quickly the dramatic imaginings
Of nightly visitations vanish like smoke
Leaving behind only an occasional query.
The more I try to recall, the more illusive.
Attempting to apply language is futile.
Words do not reveal the pictures I see.
They are fleeting, making little sense to me.
The attempt to share becomes fruitless and
Produces only frustration in the exercise.
So as usual dreams grow out of a part of me
I only meet when asleep and I have learned
To let them be what they are and that’s all.
I don’t suppose they come bringing vital messages.
These subliminal callers arrive without bidding.
I just sleep while the greater part of me imagines.