The forgotten dream

I dreamed. But I don't remember what. Awakening has being tiring and made me more tired then when I went to sleep. In my mouth the ferrous taste of blood, legacy of the night labour which didn't give birth to anything. In the confused darkness of the sleep, pieces of a landscape fell behind, glimpses of unknown places lost into the darkness and smoke. A feeling of incompleteness and an omen of tragedy are the bitter flavour of failure, the thought that maybe I observed a new panorama is the gain made forsaking the chosen path.
Forsaking a dream may be the end of the path, the dead calm sea where to languish waiting for something that can never arrive.