Dreams accompany my life
Dreams conduct my sorrow
Dreams frighten me
Although sometimes they meant well.
You show me future, past and makes hay
And but sometimes they are only vague,
they do not seem this what they are.
Reflect you the good one, the bad one,
in one himself
You want to say what show what
But they remain denied often.
No man can ever hear,
what behind this shows himself actual?
these are dreams or these remain foams
who says to me?
how are they meant?