cafe of broken dreams

could have sworn it was real.

my dreams have increasingly become lucid as of late. strikingly lucid actually, often registering themselves as memories.

sometimes, it's difficult to tell one from the other.

oftentimes i wonder if they really are memories, coming back to me in my sleep. i say this, because the level of detail is too great to pass as dreams.

habitually, when i wake up, i cling to the dream. but the harder i try, the more it eludes me. i can only stay with what i can still remember, until such a time passes and i lose them altogether.

i feel as if it's my mind's way of telling me it is about to let go of that memory, letting me relive it one last time before it finally disappears in a pool of broken thoughts and lost memories.

i can only savor them for so long while they last.

these things. beautiful as they are. are evil when they're gone.

such, is my reward.