The long night of tiresome dreams and nightmares passes.
I am left alone with my thoughts of what was happening in those dreams.
What exactly were those nightmares trying to warn me about?
Slow memories emerge and burst like tiny soap bubbles.
Soap bubbles drifting through the air on a warmly sunny day.
At some point all nightmares must come to an end,
All dreams must become the substance of memory.
Awakened I cannot say that there is much that I want to remember.
I cannot say that I wish to mine my memory for relevant data,
Concerning the troubling dreams of a troubled mind.