Teaching How to Dream

A species unknown to you

pale purple floaters bobble in my eyes and they ache from the dreams last night.

If only somebody'd teach me how to dream... That's a favor I could never fully repay, unless you somehow forgot too.

Fleshy scales and feelers (like prongs) make up my lips and yet they are still desirable?

Ripples in water fascinate me. Not that my oval shaped brain can't handle the idea of everlasting waves originating from a single action. Even when they reach the edge, they echo back onto themselves, evaluating themselves, inverting themselves.

I suppose my greatest fear is that I'll begin foaming at the mouth and like the dog I am, be put down to save me from my misery. And it will be before I've birthed my cubs or raised them or taken them to dentist appointments or grounded them after they have made poor choices or even before they can't sleep and need my song.

Before _I've_ taught them to dream, so they know they don't have to fill their sleep with intrusive thoughts.