When the Wolves Howl

I've trusted my senses through dark nights, sleeping my deliberate way into realistic dreams, soon slipping fast enough into oblivion. When the wolves howl to the moon, I would've already forgotten what reality was, and their growls would've lured me into a whole new realm. Maybe there's a demon lurking somewhere in between, forcing me to question my "dreams," though do I even dream, or am I merely a puppet dancing around two realities? For whatever answer satisfies my poor knowledge of consciousness, I just hope that these words forever remain where they may be. 'Cause this page could soon be the ashes beneath the flames of tomorrow's reality, but nothing will take away from these words for which I question, for what I am doing now as I write, am I being tempted to dream about reality, or am I realistically the demon somewhere in between? I believe either way that these words are the part of my soul that is awake, and I believe there is confusion when my mind slips away as the moon rises, but is the moon just a symbol of laughter, laughing at the barking wolves, or were the wolves apart of my dreams all along?