I dreamed,

I slept

Or maybe I dreamt that I slept.

Is life such a chore

That even guiltless pleasures are hampered by innocuous thoughts?

After all, isn’t that what dreams are,

Innocent thoughts that we remember or wished were true,

Like the love that got away.

Or the one that didn’t.

But then again

Either could be a nightmare.

It can be anything,

As long as I don’t wake up,

Not yet.

Then one day I awoke from my sleep

And poof,

Just like that,

I’m the guy I laughed at forty years ago.

The goof,

The loser,

The one who dawdled and wasted

His hackneyed life.

That one

That’s me,

Don’t let it be you.

Damn.

Too late.

Patrick Cottington, Readers Bureau, Contributor

Edited by Jesus Chan

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