Trauma pulses throughout “Dreams.” Immediately, Pastan lets the reader know that past hurt endures. In dreams, people comfort younger versions of themselves, rocking them like a parent soothing their baby after a nightmare. The present tense of rock implies that this comfort happens repeatedly, meaning the dreamer’s trauma lingers.

Pastan’s worldview even seems shaped by the idea of loss and trauma. Dreams are not just tree leaves; they are leaves “in their migrations” (Lines 7-8). Leaves only migrate during the autumn, when they fall to the ground. The falling leaves remind her of a feather from a dead bird (Lines 9-10).

Later, the reader discovers Pastan’s reoccurring dreams about her father. Her father stands on the shore, which Pastan links with danger and inevitability through the image of the sea creeping up “with a knife” (Lines 15-16). Though the father appears in everyday clothes and the sea never attacks him, the dream still deeply “wound[s]” Pastan (Lines 14-23). The dream leaves Pastan so upset that not even being awake and knowing she only dreamed “heal[s]” her (Line 24).

The loneliness and loss drive her to seek comfort in others, either observing their sleep or dreaming up an imagined lover. However, these connections cannot make up for the loss of her father, so she still wakes up alone.