The forgotten dreams

Lately I have been forgetting my dreams.

Last night before I went to bed, I listened to the tap in my bathroom dripping.  Each drip sounded musical, the beat composed and pretty.  I thought for a moment it was someone in my basement, singing to me with their tongues, but I found the faucet and closed it.

I had a very vivid dream last night but I have forgotten it.  It works like this a lot nowadays, where I recall having a sweet dream, but for the life of me, trying to remember it is an impossibility.

I remember colours, mostly.  Blues.  Lots of blues.

There were sepias and pinks and grays, beautiful spectrums and yet...

and yet...