Dreams are just lives that live inside the subconscious
They prod memories up from sleeping possibilities
They remind both the heart and mind the paths they could or forgot to take
But are they real?
The answer is,
They could have been,
But now they just sleep and wait till they are called up by pain and guilt and loneliness
For they only remind us of lives that walk beside ours,
Never crossing but always instep
Showing us what we missed;
Whether it be good or bad,
For dreams are meant to be dwelled upon, slept upon, dismissed;
They are told to be left behind for there are so many dreams and so many what ifs;
The weight is unbearable so it is best to let them sit and sleep,
Allowing them to slowly, sorely,
Ossify and fade from our memory.