dark night, dark dreams swirling
eyes flicker, will they open?
blue bruised sky slowly lightens
dream
Arriving at school
Arriving at school without my pants
caused some moments of cognitive dissonance
I looked at the playground clock, it was just eleven
but then the alarm rang and I woke up at seven.
Aged forty eight.
You were in my dreams
You were in my dreams all night long
In the day I dreamed to be in yours
Do you dream of me or with me?
Dawning
dawning
are you wakening
stirring turning
from your dreams
dawning
as the light flows
as your freedom grows
as your time begins
dawning
I am evening
cool moon shining
soft eyes close
dawning
are you wakening
stirring turning
in my dreams
I dreamt of Richard
I dreamt of Richard and a malfunctioning autocorrect on his iPad and woke up with my face streaked with tears of laughter. Then, of course, I realised Richard was not here any more and the tears began again.
I cannot bring to mind
I cannot bring to mind my dream from yesterday
though I know that it must run its course
before I begin anew.
I close my eyes in the mid-afternoon shade.
Cherry blossom clouds
Cherry blossom clouds
I close my eyes and you dream
The east wind wakes us
I woke up
I woke up from the glue dream and got off the train. Up the emergency stairs to Holborn where the traffic had stopped. Why? Because Bobby had landed his helicopter in the middle of the street. Yes – Bobby, helicopter, Holborn. Again. The rotors blew years of diesel dust from the trees into my eyes. I squinted between my fingers and Bobby was waving to me. That did not surprise me though it should perhaps have done but the helicopter did. It was soft and hazy and billowed and waved, red and pink and spots and stars. Jump in, jump in, called a voice, a spinkly sparkly monkily voice. I jumped in and we flew upside down above the river towards the sea. My hair had grown and curled and flew behind me in ringlets. I closed my eyes and tried to wake up again.
The island of Bivolio
My favourite holiday destination is the island of Bivolio. I spend my days in the shade near the sea, hard muscles soft, thoughts wandering away and slowly fading.
When I first went there, I asked people how they said ‘day dreaming’ in their language. They looked at me and laughed and gently corrected me – day dreaming? I was talking about dreaming and that happens in the day. Night dreams are different. Dreams, the ones that you rest into in the day, bring you possibilities for the future, night dreams solve the problems of the past.
“Dream on it,” they say, “and the answers will be there.”
“They have always been there,” some continue, ” but you have tried too hard, you have thought too hard. Dream on it.”
“Golden dreams” they wish me. The sweetest golden dreams.
Close your eyes
Close your eyes and the stars spiral to their own music, the sky the softest black. Touch.
