In dreams, places that I’m not supposed to be are filthy and stay that way

If I’m meant to be there, the way to clean will appear

And I’ll clean

A way to unclutter the junk

There are brooms and mops

Scrub brushes and gloves

Rags and pine-scented cleaner

Lemons and vinegar

Baking Soda, Salt, and Water

Buckets and Furniture polish

I wash and clean

Scrub with bubbles that never get in the way

My hands don’t prune

My skin doesn’t crack

My face doesn’t turn red as I work

I organize and shine

(Sometimes there’s help, familiar faces lifting and moving)

When the room is clean

When it smells good and the ghosts are cleared away

That's when I wake

The problems that were bothering me, don’t seem so big

All the junk cluttering them up has been organized

I may not have a solution

But I’m not so overwhelmed