Time Travel in Dreams

I am yet to exist—
Self, a construct,
Living my life before I do.
Soon enough,
Self must remember this upon waking:
Tears can turn dreams into—
The difference between
An empty stomach in a white-elephant home
And a full stomach in an unfurnished space.
Pity is a stench
You may wear for a while,
But even that can be transformed—
Into forgiveness of oneself.
Please.
Self carries too much guilt.
Shed some,
To walk a mile toward success.
This is the beginning.