Much time is spent discussing what they mean,
They disappear the moment that you wake;
Vague wisps of feelings recreate the scene,
But not enough to sort out fact from fake.
Does the unconscious change the good and bad,
To put us in a place beyond our choice?
Are dreams a memory from times we’ve had,
Or premonition yet to have a voice?
They all appear to be as real as life,
Some comfort us with words we long to hear;
Much harder are the ones that cause us strife,
And fill our mind with unknown doubt and fear.
However hard we try to work them out,
Our conscious mind cannot achieve recall;
Why should it matter what they were about,
Perhaps they have no meaning after all.