A Poem. Dreams. “A many a splendored thing.”

3 min readApr 6, 2023
Black balloon. A black tulle covered balloon. A balloon being held. An inflated black, tulle covered, balloon. Black nail polish.
Photo by Hipster Mum on Unsplash

Getting wrapped up in our world where nothing is as it seems.
All same; still no peace.

“A dream is but a dream…”

On most occasions I wake…
Remembering but fragments of my dreams.

Retaining a mere 60 seconds — of my most charming, repressed, and oppressive treasury’s!
Obsessive* not oppressive.
I’ll leave my mistake.

Once again in means of my authenticity.

What’s happened subconsciously?

“Have you ever been awaken?”

Amidst a Dismal, yet ordinary Night—Seeking The Sandman or better yet craving. A most Tender of Incite.

An Impulsive Awakening…
By an unwavering Snatching of Delight. Blatantly Interrupted; surely forsaking, and
Roused by ones own insight …

“Why; Oh, Why have I arose?”

Being plucked out of a darling dream my conscience has abruptly impose d!

Dreaming to Excite. Waking to Entice?

Watching ones riddles unfold; fast asleep, each evening, despite, tonight…




My ideas on the complexities of our mind’s with an appreciation for the “darker” realities— Whilst insisting Hope remains, unwavering, in all of us!.