I am not a dreamer,
I don’t remember my dreams.
I do dream though,
but I dream when I am awake.
Day dreams seem so angelic,
mine are not so.
I give myself topics to consider,
past experience to relieve,
experiences to follow through with,
problems to solve,
and I let time, emotion, and imagination do the rest.
Some of these forced dreams result in me talking to myself,
a few scare and anger me to tears,
and others arouse me, make me feel warm, loved, and human.
Most are private and locked behind my glasses,
some parts are shared in the need to connect,
the need to talk,
the need to feel heard outside of my head.