When I have spent my nights awake, turning.
My head begins to spin again, aghast.
Remembering my dream, futile yearning.
Future dreams or from my memories past?
Then it becomes a wall of books and shelves.
Inside a building filled with dim light.
The moon casts shadows over our former selves.
We have morphed into destiny tonight.
Then I see the Dream Journal for myself.
My eyes are ever open wondering what calls?
It is tucked amongst the old like Delph.
A vast world unbeknownst, except to walls.
But then I see the Dream has become real.
Where will this lead me, how am I to feel?
.Lily
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