I don't remember my dreams --
     not in the middle of the night 
     and not in the morning.

But, sometimes, I catch a glimpse
     at a random instant:
          composing a poem,
          reflecting on a passage
               from a book,
          eating a cracker...

 But my dreams are like
     frightened animals,
          turning my attention
          directly upon them, 
          makes them skitter off..., 

     vanishing into the thicket.

My dreams vanish like they 
     were never really there,
     and I am left wondering
          just what I saw.

The harder I try to remember,
     the more severely I scrub
          my mental hard drive,
     purging all shapes and motions,
          until my recollection is nothing
          but a vague residue of feeling.

I don't KNOW that it was a dream.

I couldn't swear to it.

All I know is that it's an image 
     that I can't tie to my waking life, 
          can't tie to any person, place,
          or thing I know to be real. 

(And, often enough, it's an image
     that couldn't exist in the real world.)

I couldn't remember it as a dream,
     but - somehow - I intensely FEEL
          that it was a dream,

but the Dream is deep down in its hole,
     shaking like a critter that
          was almost snatched up by 
     a monster too awful to 
          contemplate....

and, somehow, I am that monster.