I dreamt of you last night. Perhaps
that is too much inappropriate
but I did. The fact is there.
I dreamt of you
and promised you a story
in my dream.
I dreamt we were asleep together
and in my dream
I dreamt of you. I dreamt
that held us together until
the very end.
Its narrative was loose and
shaky and there were
twists and turns
that I could not quite follow
and cannot now recall.
But the dream was a story
and the story a dream
and we were together
and that is the end.
dark night, dark dreams swirling
eyes flicker, will they open?
blue bruised sky slowly lightens
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 all night long
In the day I dreamed to be in yours
Do you dream of me or with me?
are you wakening
from your dreams
as the light flows
as your freedom grows
as your time begins
I am evening
cool moon shining
soft eyes close
are you wakening
in my dreams
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 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
I close my eyes and you dream
The east wind wakes us
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.
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.