The night seeps through the curtains,
Soaking me in uncertainty.
Another night of dreams,
Delicate, forgetful dreams.
My mind makes up unusual stories,
Made to entertain,
Which they did.
But behind those distractions,
Behind the wacky tales,
Visions of the future,
Only insignificant snippets of random events
From random days.
Then I wake up with the stories vanished,
Leaving hazy echos and untitled images.
My mind focuses on the tasks for the day,
Goals to be accomplished,
Failing to recall my dreams.
Then the setting looks familiar,
Everything like it happened before.
In those dreams.
When this happens I sit back,
Mindful of my surroundings.
So aware of what’s happening around me.
I start to feel my face heat up,
I grind my teeth together,
I feel my shoulders rise to my neck,
I grow angry.
Snippets of my life I have already seen,
Fate being led out as expected.
But that’s not what I want,
Will I not get a say in what happens in my life?
Each dream just a tease knowing everything is already planned out.
I get to sit back and not make any of the calls.
It frightens me.
Then my directed thought process kicks in,
Wanting to focus on the task at hand.
The cycle repeats itself.
I grow angry,
I grow fearful,
I get back to work.
All planned out.
Neatly mapped out.
I now ignore my visions,
Waving it off as coincidental.
Yet the mystery still haunts me,
My ignorance will wear off one day.
Now I remain blissful and this is where I’ll stay.