Dreams Remind Me of a Small Child

Dreams remind me of a shy child, never speaking his mind.


When you talk in your sleep late at night,


Dreams try to speak.


They inform you of your forgotten world,


nestled in the cracks of creativity inside your brain.


Improbable improbabilities and whatever what-not’s


your inferior part of your brain conjures


stimulates within your crevices of your imagination.


It implores to be spread onto a mockingly white sheet of paper,


Or shared through artwork and other forms of appreciations.


It desperately wants you to remember what it was like to be a child.


And live in an unreality.


When you wake, you say, “What a strange dream I had? What did I dream?”


That’s your dreams shying away.


It tip toes past your eyes and quietly resides in the back of your mind,


And backs up into your invented world, slowly closing the door behind him.


Mental Note: Don't let yourself grow up on the inside.

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