Not sweet dreams

I do not like the places
I go to, in my dreams.
My sadness at separation
From the beloved children
Is, while being worked on,
Hidden deep in my heart.
The sorrow of the end
Of more than three decades of marriage
Lurks there, too,
In the dark crevices of my heart
The wrongs I have done: the hurts I have caused
The many things I could have done better….
All these are not, as I thought,
Dealt with, and forgotten.
They hang, with little burrs,
In my subconscious mind.
Perhaps this is why I rarely dream;
Because, when I do,
I go to these places.
I feel, once again,
What I do not want to feel.
Scenes flash before my consciousness
That I thought I’d discarded…
No, I just seem to have buried them
Beyond the reach of my everyday thoughts.
They come out, and mock me.
Sadness, loneliness, regrets:
They once again assail me.
I wish they would not.
I do not like the places
I go to, in my dreams.

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