Dreams are bad news. Good dreams or bad dreams, it doesn’t matter. When you awaken you are the same person, only sadder. You wake with less happiness, less hope than before you laid your head on the pillow and closed your eyes and sleep took you to that place you yearn for but hate with hot tears when your eyes open again. The place you pray for as your eyes close at night. The place where all the love you ever dreamt of finds you and lifts you and enfolds you in a soft nest of peace and grace. Where lips soft as a lover’s moan kiss you the way a gentle sough of wind floats through a field of wheat. Where a blissful ecstasy grips your heart, and a radiant love of divine provenance warms inside you. Where your soul flows over with an exhilaration so entire, so complete that your heart beats with a rapturous joy and you shed warm tears of happiness in your sleep. Then you awaken, your pillow still damp, and your heart turns cold as you realize that the thought just beyond reach in the back of your sleeping mind was right, it was all just a dream, she was just a dream. But she was so real, the love was so real. You lie helplessly as she slips away, your eyes shut tight, prayers on your lips, prayers of begging, prayers pleading for her return. You call to her, but she fades into the nether reaches of the timeless universe of your mind where dreams come from and return to, and you try to reach her, but she is only a memory now, among other memories of heartbreak. You press your face into the pillow and hot tears flow from your eyes as you pray for her return. But she is forever a dream you can never wake to, again.