Do the dreams we encounter through the night
Echo a past indiscretion, or delight?
Sleeping, do we recall times we treasure?
Brief shadows which remark some past pleasures?

Could they be of a life, we lived before?
Such dreams, upon which some folks set great store,
Appear as scattered fragments of the great unknown!
Unlike past predictions found carved in stone.

Dreams?  Transient illusions of the mind!
Their being?   We’ve no answer there to find!
A message? None but trifling amusement.
Worthless, they contrive their own bemusement!

Born of our fertile imagination,
Appearing without co-ordination
Escaping from the mind’s peregrinations,
Feigning authentic prognostications!

While Charlatans promote these dreams as fact,
And seek simple, trusting minds to impact!
Others dismiss them with cynicism and disdain!
Still there are those with honest doubt, that remain!

When next, dreams turn to nightmares!   We’re left confused!
Tormented minds seek explanations?  Infused
With false premonitions, these singular thoughts
Offend our beliefs! But before it thwarts

Objectives, and we search for clues not there.
We must guard against deceit!  Have a care.
For dreams, are empty echoes of the mind!
This is the only answer I can find.

Rhymer.  January 31st, 2018