the sign above my head said,
where by my bed I was also left
the means of writing them down,
before the day's thoughts erased them.
Music filled so many of those dreams,
most of it I'd shared with friends but some
fresh from my head, tunes I'd heard nowhere else.
Other times what came back was news reports
I'd read, on line or in the papers, when they were
the main way for me to learn about the world.
The best dreams would feature my truest lost love,
my one time dog Oscar, who in the short years
I and my buddy cared for him we were the happiest
three people could imagine being together.
We made each other complete and content.
Now my days seem less engaged,
in a daze I do what must be done,
amiably but with less exitement.
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