Dreams and dreams come back to me <br />when I awaken with their threads <br />like cobwebs feathering past my face <br />the visions of lost cities, fade quickly, <br />but an after-image of emotions flutters <br />behind eyelids. When I close my eyes <br />I can barely make out faces and places. <br /> <br />Dreams and dreams come back to me <br />when the aftertaste of some exotic fruit <br />reminds me of another nibbled <br />in paradise and left half-eaten; <br />when some bittersweet bite of strange curry <br />brings back a tantalizing taste of a dreamed cuisine <br />that brought tears to my eyes with its spiciness, <br />or when some whipped delicacy <br />whispers to my taste buds, “You've been here before, ” <br />and the flavor of ambrosia from the Tír na nÓg <br />of childhood rushes back from its lost corner. <br />These were never in reality <br />but the real can call them into being, <br />as if the dream were a seed of the future <br />that now I stumble upon, newly discovered. <br /> <br />Dreams and dreams come back to me <br />as legs bounding over some building or puddle, <br />jack-knife in a spasm that kicks the covers off <br />landing me back in my room, in my own slumbering bed <br />and I shiver from the fright of what horror I escaped; <br />yet already the nightmare is washed away <br />leaving only a cramp in my left calf. <br /> <br />Dreams and dreams come back to me <br />yet too many dreams are forgotten, <br />As the echoes of the last one ring in my ears, <br />the voices that jerked me back to reality <br />or awoke me with a gasp <br />now shake the silence with their presence. <br />I don't know which is worse: <br />the remembering or the forgetting.<br /><br />Lillian Susan Thomas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dreams-and-dreams-come-back-to-me/
