Tired of these Dreams
The dreams I dream at night
are very different than the dreams
I dream during the day.
(Some are prisons without the bars;
others are vast skies without the clouds.)
I open myself up to my dreams and explore
the depth and breadth of them.
I imagine myself a published author,
well-respected in my field,
stable, and most importantly, me.
My dreams at night are of a different sort.
I wake up, my tongue thick inside of my mouth
from a dream where my words came out muffled and garbled.
No one knew what I said,
and I felt so helpless.
I’m tired of the nightmares,
the flashbacks, the triggers.
I want more of the daydreams,
the fantasies, the make-believes.