The Dreamer

The Dreamer

We met in someone else’s dream,
bit players
in a dance through ever changing landscapes.
Our eyes met
when The Dreamer wasn’t looking.
I ran to you,
but The Dreamer woke
and I found myself
alone in a cold and empty room.

I searched for you
behind every stranger’s smile
the eyes were never yours.

The Dreamer slept
and I saw you through
I was a giraffe
you a dragon.
I knew you by your eyes.
We held hands by a lake
in the forest of someone else’s mind.
I leaned to kiss you
and The Dreamer woke.
I was alone in a room,
with a faint smell of perfume.

The Dreamer slept again
and you were astride my back.
My hooves plodding out a
syncopated rhythm.
You chatted with the queen
absently stroking my mane.
Then in an instant I was a falcon
perched on The Dreamer’s arm.
You were the prey.
As my talons began to sink
into your mousey flesh,
The Dreamer woke
and I was in that room
clutching a pillow,
afraid it would get away.

I search for you each day
when The Dreamer wakes.
Each night I swim with you
in an ocean lit by a spaghetti moon
and lie with you on sands
warmed by gumdrop suns.

One day I will find you
and hold you in dreams of my own.
Until then,
I pray The Dreamer never wakes.


The Day After

The Day After

The alarm clock gently nudged me awake, as the dreams fled from my head like a rabbit running for cover. I yawned slightly, stretched and turned off the alarm. I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, my smile getting wider as I thought about the day to come. It was here at last! The day I had been anticipating for over twenty years. Today truly was the first day of the rest of my life. Yesterday I was a working stiff, today: I’m retired!
I made my way to the bathroom where I took a long, hot, steaming shower. The hot water didn’t run out this time. While drying off, I noticed how much softer and fluffier the towel was this morning. It even smelled sweeter. I cleared the mirror to shave and then thought, “why bother”, and got dressed instead.
My car started on the first try, and I was off to breakfast. Oh breakfast! How long had it been since I had taken time to eat the most important meal of the day? It didn’t really matter now. I could eat breakfast everyday if I wanted, that is, if I decided to get up that early. I ran through the drive-through, more out of habit than anything else. The voice coming through the little metal speaker seemed sharp and clear. I understood every word. They even got my order right for a change. I wished the lady at the window a “good day” and really meant it this time.
I pulled out of the parking lot and turned left, just because. The sky seemed unusually blue today. What few clouds there were all looked like cotton-candy smiles. I continued on down the road going no place in particular. I made every light, and it almost seemed as thought the other drivers knew this was my day. They moved out of my way, or politely waved me by. I was making excellent time getting wherever I was going to wind up. I drove for a few more hours then stopped for lunch.
The food was the best I had ever had. The roast beef was warm and juicy, the bread soft and sweet. I savored every bite, not having to be anywhere at anytime. The coffee was perfect, black as midnight, as strong as the kick of a mule. Today I even had a slice of pie. Lemon meringue, to be exact. The meringue was piled thick and sticky on top of the most brilliant yellow filling I have ever seen. It was almost like looking into a perfect summer sun when you were a kid.
After lunch I drove back home and crawled under the softest blankets in the world. Warmth quickly washed over me in a flood and I could feel myself drifting off to sleep. My eyes began to flutter, as sleep overtook me. Dreams of the days that lie ahead began to fight over who would be shown in the theater of my mind.

The alarm yanked me awake with a squeal that made my heart jump out of my throat. It bounced off the ceiling, ricocheted off the wall, then the dresser, and flew back down my throat. I jumped out of bed, stubbed my toe on a box I should have put away last week, and slapped at the alarm until it gave in and was quiet. The water went cold, I cut myself shaving, and was ten minutes late for work because of a traffic jam. When I saw my reflection in the uncaring glow of my terminal screen, I was surprised to see a smile on my face. The dream of the night before was still with me. Today might not have been my perfect day, but it won’t be long till every day is.

This was an essay assignment we had to write in one of my English classes. I still kind of like it. Though I’m not sure “that” day will ever get here now, I still dream about it.

My Dream

My Dream

One of the few log cabins in Anchorage, Alaska...

Image by Wonderlane via Flickr

I was warmed by a fire that wasn’t there,
sipped hot chocolate that was never made.
I rocked in a chair that didn’t exist.
The rug I couldn’t see tickled my feet.
Snow that never was fell gently outside
a window made of air.
I spoke words that had no sound.
I hope you heard what I didn’t say.

I would never leave that cabin made of mist,
if only you would keep me there.
I would hold your hand that isn’t real
till time itself became a myth.

It was a dream I had while wide awake.
and better than any I have dreamt before.



I stand on the edge,
cliff beckoning me.

it whispers

I step closer.

Toes peer over the edge
looking down at hard,
unforgiving ground.

I raise my arms
standing there crucified
on my tree of sins.

Feet, half in, half out
of this world, strain
supporting my weight.

Wind nudges my forehead
trying to push me back.
It isn’t strong enough,
and howls as I fall.

The cliff laughs.

“Time to wake”
Your voice startles me.
I sit up, cold sweat sticks
sheet to skin.
I reach to thank you,

remembering you are
long since gone.

Sometimes I’m not sure where I get my ideas. They just seem to pop in my head.