Dreams are personal fantasies
Neither plotted nor designed,
Surrounded by muted mysteries
Of the sleeping mind.
It is often opted to forget
This panorama of the brain.
To remember may cause regret
Of imagery difficult to explain.
Who can recall the reverie
When sleep becomes awake
And all surreal imagery
Is lost in coming daybreak.
Then once again comes night
And time anew to scheme,
And translate imaginary sight
Into the illusory dream.
This cycle is repeated
Nocturnally during sleep;
The memory oft deleted
Of the secrets that we keep.

by Jane Secor

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