Dream

Upon waking in the morning 

I settled in to write down my dream -

If only a fragment of it.

I, however, couldn't recall anything.

Afternoon approached 

but the dreamt didn't,

although the sumptuous lunch 

brought its mood back.

In the evening while reading 

a book, one secondary character 

in it dreamt about 

long lost-friends 

holidaying at the beach.

Mine wasn't about that.

I remember, at least,

what my dream wasn't.

Unhappily,

night arrived and with it came 

the thought of dreaming again.

A portion of the dream flashed 

in front of my eyes:

the part in which I'm 

trying to remember what the

dream was.

Sad, somewhat melancholic,

I stopped thinking about it.

Probably, the dream was a dream

about writing. Writing, anything, at all

and paying the dream forward 

to you.