The Death of Dreams

We are told that dreams are
Nothing more than
Electric pulses bouncing off
Filing cabinets in the brain.
This seems unfair because Freud said that
Every dream is a
Secret wish,
And that they reveal the unconscious,
Soul secrets,
Repressed desires,
Experts say that isn't so.
Dreams expose only arbitrary connections from
Random brainwaves.
They hold no more meaning than
Or bumping into a stranger on a train.
Then what of my dream last night
And its strange revelation?
I shall be forced to abandon the important insight
And the changes it would bring,
The better man I would become,
The security and peace that would wash over me,
The idea for this poem.
All of this disposed
In favor of serendipity.

© Poem Fix 2012
Photo by Lee Jones

No comments:

Post a Comment