The dream

Sleep comes again to settle

the state of one who weeps

but again the dream comes marching

through the veils of consciousness.

Stirred awake it’s not to say

she no longer weeps

but her focus now enlarged

encompasses this “double-up”.

Weighted she’s a woman, maybe you, maybe me,

rationalizing, justifying, and trying to explain

how dreams intrude and supersede

yesterday’s dismay.

But finally and indubitably one deep breath

and shrug of shoulders, flick of head,

blows all the puzzle pieces

out the doors and windows.

She doesn’t rush to gather them

because she knows like I do

dreams are simply nature’s way

of mixing up realities.

Armed now with breath, head/shoulders straight

and un-weighted with that dream 

she turns to face the rising sun

sure again that dreams aren’t real!