It Must Be a Dream

Right?

Image by fszalai from Pixabay

Sometimes
I remember my dreams
but they feel like memories
as if I don’t know
the difference

But I want them
to be dreams
for who knows
how the mind buries things
undeniably a form of protection

I’m under thick blankets
cocooning
layered
cottony
muted

I must
dig, dig, dig
deep
to reveal
what’s underneath

The dreams
are sometimes soft
like I’m floating
underwater
swirling within tides

Sometimes
they are clear
like the sunniest
coldest day in winter
knife sharp and crisp

And always
I’m detached
watching
as an outsider
but only because