My dreams unfailingly show the surprising intersection of my most human desires,
it’s not uncommon.
A little game, between my subconscious and I.
Every night desire takes centre stage, but slips away before the moon meets the horizon.
My dream yesterday though, couldn’t have been clearer.
It was your face in the most exquisitely exceptional detail.
Every tiny scratch etched in your face, every likeness captured so perfectly.
It seems there’s no cheating the game of desires.
I pretend dreams are the stuff of freudian worship, and yet, somehow they catch up still.
Literary Musings 