Clouds and dreams

“Tell me the substance from which Adam was made”

“A pound of cloud (made) his unstable mind”

(Old English colloquy)

Are dreams a symbol of our unstable mind?

insubstantial, shape-shifting as clouds or fire,

narrative suspended, no logic or form,

fleeting images which blend, expire.

How are dreams conjured as night melts away?

In language and colour, emotions still felt

Linger…

then fade in the drowsy waking self,

While meaning slips from memory’s grasp

Visions of future?  Debris from the past?

a vestige of traumas we’ve tried to discard?

Floating remnants on a sea of glass.

Do dreams have a purpose we cannot define?

Beyond our experience they sometimes appear,

reflecting anxieties – we’re scarcely aware –

insights unsought but not to ignore –

cloudy secrets of our unconscious mind.