Dreams were when I was younger. Then they grew old and senile, and I failed to keep up. They ceased to matter, barely existing, with one shaky foot in the grave and the other lost inside my head.
I watched them die, and I didn't particularly approve of it. Now wasn't the time. I had so much else on my mind. But the fire, within and without, had reached them, and gently pushed them over their edge.
I held them close to my heart, refusing to relinquish my grip, as they slowly caught fire. The end was quick - one moment they were there, the next they were gone, and I watched the winds of time gently carry the the ashes into relative obscurity.
Ashes to ashes.
I looked up to the dragons, as a tear rolled down my cheek. I closed my eyes to darkness, and collapsed to a sound and dreamless sleep, untroubled.