Dreaming of a beautiful living thing

Last night I dreamt of a bright white light coming from within a huge web like dome of interlocked shadows. The edges of the shadows were soft and vaguely human shaped. The light was harsh on the black dance floor. The network breathed together as one beautiful living thing. From deep within the mass a poet’s voice emerged crystal clear. As their voice grew nearer the light shifted from below the knot to above the speaker as the limbs disassembled in the darkness.

I am in a rehearsal hall addressing the ensemble of sweaty artists emerging from the darkness. I am giving notes to the team to spend extra time working with their bodies between rehearsals to build stamina to hold the sculpture, “This will be different for each of your bodies, look inside yourself and see how you need to make adjustments to the sequence to suit your body”. As the group disperses I am already pouring over my notes making adjustments to the calendar, and drafting emails to the design team with the adjustments from today. There is a level of calm in my brain that is so rare in my waking life.

The thought disrupts the dream state. I wake up going over the schedule again, and determining the web image should be moved to the end from the beginning.


Thanks Mr. Rose.


Dreaming of sex & war

I dreamt I was a fertility goddess in space collecting seeds from the forest floor to feed the stars & end the war that killed them all. A single bomb, a child born, washed up on the sandy shore. Braided hair to pass the time, only speak in whispered rhymes. Taste the flesh that’s been seeding pine needles. Black rough hands in soft gentle creases. Working for a child’s right to die in peaceful times. Leading generals with all that’s mine. Comfort wrapped in round bouncing hips. Histories course tangled in my lips. A soft wet secret in my heart. The birth of a millennial new start.


Dreaming of a caring economy 

I dreamt about holding my mom while she ugly cried. About her letting tears roll in ugly sobs. Of holding her & stroking her hair while she shoke with each painful breath. Of her feeling so small & helpless in my arms. I couldn’t calm your fears.

Before that we were in the kitchen after a big meal I was late too. Everyone clinking glasses & merry. I chewed hubba bubba gum too big for my mouth. My words were awkward around the slippery mass. You didn’t mind. You picked me up by the thighs & carried me up the many flights of stairs. You told me that you loved me & always will while you set me on top of cabinet 6 ft high. I was skeptical that you meant any of it, but your words were so velvety rich & reassuring. Resting your hand on my knee we talked for longer than it seemed. I got gum stuck in your hair which shone redder than usual in the bedroom light. As I carefully & tenderly groomed the pieces from your hair I knew you meant these promises this time.We talked about how living at home is weird, and the state of the job market. About family & music, old friends & new ones. You’re reassuring gaze never leaving mine.

Just as I let my gaurd down & placed my trust back in your hands, mom came to call me subtly distraught to the other room. As you waved from the bottom of the stairs I had no idea that I would not see you again.


Dreaming of an old friend

I dreamt of him as a child & alone. Coming day after day into the hands of the one that would tear him apart. Creep tip toe softly down the stairs to the back of the house. Don’t turn on the light. Don’t make a sound. Soften brittle between your teeth. He was always such a radiant child in all his uncontrollable sadness. He rode his bike hard out the back door, down the alley, across the field, through the parking lot, to the waiting arms of the only one that cared for him in all the wrong ways. He always had a very feminine air about him even as a child. Hair long & curly, but mostly matted. His nose long & slender. His eyes softly proud, but usually cast down. There was a tag on the back of his house, a heart with an A through it, that one of the girls had left there for him. He always had a few women about him even as a young boy barely past eight. He was their keeper, trying to play a big boys role in their heart, biking between the alleys & stores collecting what he could to keep them a float. They were all his senior by almost ten years, but he could not refuse that frightened look in their charcoal singed Bambi eyes. That is why he returned again & again to the dragons den, breathing fire down his throat, in the guise of PB & J sandwiches. He bore it all so gently & firmly. It wasn’t for himself, his mind was elsewhere. When his mom went into the hospital he was so calm & collected no one thought to question the older single man he had been spending so much time with. Just a family friend here to check in after hearing the news. No one exchanges names in a time of calamity. He never told. He grew up & mostly moved on. Local grocery clerk peddling on the side. He stopped coming around as much, but he kept his word. I’ll never understand why he kept that word. Or how he preserved so much gentleness in his heart after loosing so much blood to his own wounds. An old soul trapped in a young mans body. Was I another one of his lost doves he was trying to rescue? Could he really love me in all his softness carrying around the weight of those secrets? Was I responsible for that far away look in his eye?


Dreaming of a broken heart

Is it really possible to love someone?

Are we all just pretending?

What is love?

A feeling in the bones? A moment in time? An action? A person? An altered state of mind?

Walking through the house filled with everyone I have loved busy falling in love with each other. It’s a party. We are together. Thank god we have each other on this dark night. But I am alone tying my shoe laces. You like the way his hair falls in front of his glasses. His body noticing the Cupid bow of your lips for the first time. You look perfect in that black dress. Your eyes meet. These pieces of both of you I’ve loved so long looked at a new. Instant connection. I feel a sense of pride & fear. You both don’t notice me as I slip out the back door. Outside it is cold like a crystal clear prairie night. I see the rest of you sipping wine from mason jars laughing safe in each other’s secrets. What could I say to you that could transcend this moment? Nothing. Anger flushes my face, but I turn it away inwards. It isn’t meant for you, but how did you get so gentle while I am still here wrapped in hazzard tape? You try to stop me, fill my cup, it’s like you can’t feel this cold settling into my bones and rubbing my cheeks red raw. To you it’s another pleasant summers eve in a city that lives by the ocean with no name. It is a time of celebration. Only I shiver on the step. Down the stairs, hands in pockets, through the streets. Restless & reckless climbing between buildings, over fences, through cracks in the polished facades. There is a boy following me, two actually, they are brothers. I’m tired & drunk & I don’t want to talk to you can’t you see that I am so cold? My heart is not full of mirth like yours, my feet are heavy. Hitch my skirt up over the highest balcony. Alone at last. Feed the cat. Take my shoes off hide them under my seat. Feel at home. You come home with the others to the apartment, but I’m serene on my little balcony escape through the glass. Tomorrow we will be on the road again to the next place. The fear in my heart softens a little at the thought. You give me a knowing look on your way to bed. I get comfortable in my strange little uncomfortable corner I’ve chosen for myself. Sleep in a lawn chair. Wake up at four in the morning full of regret.