Langston Hughes uses a series of effective similes in his attempt to define what it feels like to have to put away one's dreams. In each simile, it is clear that the dream doesn't disappear. In the first simile, it shrivels up but it is still a solid raisin. In the second, it clearly cries out for attention as an unattended sore that surely pains the owner. In the third, it begs for attention through its slow rotting and stinks worse the longer it is ignored. In each simile, including the last two, it takes a different form but never disappears. At the end, Hughes departs from the simile and simply asks, does a dream deferred explode? This draws our attention because it is different, almost as if Hughes is suggesting that this is the answer—that a dream deferred will explode if left unattended too long. These similes and the question at the end all support the theme of the lingering effects of one's deepest dreams.
