The Problem That I Seem To Have with Dreams

The problem that I seem to have with dreams

Is that they seem so oft to flee away

When morn, so bright, invites the Sun to stream

And breaks the spell of Hypnos with the Day.

There are some dreams, however, that doth keep

A place within my psyche for all time;

They oft return to me upon my sleep,

And prance about without reason or rhyme.

What makes these dreams return I do not know,

Nor do I know exactly what they mean:

Why does my mind continually show

Such ghastly things, 'stead lovely things serene?

Why can't I ever dream of things I like,

Like puppydogs, or maybe Magic Mike?