I have vivid dreams.
I dream in color; dreams of laughter,
Dreams of sorrow, dreams that are caked in blood and fear.
Occasionally, though, the dreams I dream are muddled,
Only flashes of seemingly arbitrary scenes in every day life.
"It was only a dream. No context or meaning," I tell myself.
And then I see that same little arbitrary scene while I'm awake.
Like sitting on the floor at Grant's house in my dream,
And now in my waking life.
At the store, with Whitney jumping all around, giggling and being roudy.
I believe I am on the right path,
Because my dreams have shown me the outcomes of my choices.