I'm a little confused by this. I think it's treating dreams as a negative thing, and while it could be because the author suffers from bad dreams, I think the theme is that dreams allow us to experience more wondrous things only to have to hope of them being possible dashed when you awaken. It's an interesting thought. People are mostly hardwired to always strive for more, so maybe having to repeatedly ground that hope keeps us from having to find ever grander things to hope for when you keep getting your wish. One thing I've long thought is that if you got what you most wanted in the world, how long would it keep you happy? Maybe that's a bit of a counterargument to this, but I do like the sentiment here. I don't know if there's anything to be read into the lack of a rhyme scheme until near the end. That might have been unintentional.

In roiling murky umber haze
Lay Thanatos in slumber lock'd
Until the air, now full of steam,
Called like whims of Tantalus
With rich aroma full of life
That draws one full awake to savor,
So Thanatos arose, stood up
Greeting Hypnos, and took sup
From that fresh-brewed and brimming cup.

I'm a semi-lucid dreamer, in as much as I'm usually aware I'm dreaming even if I can't always do much about it, so the idea that dreams slowly sap your hope away—the little deaths—is an interesting one. When I'm dreaming, I'm never out of breath, or feel sluggish and tired. My hips don't creak, sometimes I can fly, and occasionally there's a pretty girl somewhere who isn't already snogging on my best friend. I get some repeat dreams, which is cool, but more often than not it's a new adventure every night. The occasional black fog of existential horror, but all in all a net positive.

And then I wake up, and every time I wake up I'm still me. Maybe that's the real nightmare.

Anyway cool poem I'm going to go cry now.