The dream is my memory.
I had lucid dreams
as a child
that feel very much
like memories.
I’ve grown to understand,
as vivid as they were,
they aren’t reality.
Not my history.
they aren’t reality.
Not my history.
I accept this for all
but one.
I don’t ask about it.
I don’t want confirmation.
I like the false memory.
The delusion.
It keeps us connected.
It’s you.
Strong and capable.
Alive.
Saving the day.
Quiet and unassuming.
The story of the dream
is irrelevant.
I’ll keep that to myself.
and visit it from time to time…..
when I miss you…..
or need to reminisce
your love.