September 2, 2013
How does one determined the line between dream and reality?
This tells the story of an old woman who has spent her time in sleep building a relationship with a man who is deemed, in our concept of reality, a dream. She contemplates whether his ability to prevail so tangibly in her existence is due to them having a love that stands the test of time, society’s notion of reality and reincarnation itself. This is the thoughts of a woman ” Stuck Outside the Dream.”
Faint as a memory, vivid as a dream,
That’s how I remember him.
His hands firm, ironed to fit the concaves of my weathered skin.
His love vivid, shaped to illuminate the shadows of my being.
He was a soft vision, only unlike any phantom I had ever seen,
For I had felt his touch.
His hair always smelt of plucked roses, a soap given to him on our 20th Anniversary.
His lips, provoked by the beat of my heart, were always filled with the vowels of kings.
But at times, when I’m awake, I can’t help but wonder, hath my senses played a trick on me?
Am I interwoven inside the womb of my own insanity?
In love inside two worlds, I, we, both were trapped.
A communion derailed by the coming of the sun and the yawning of the moon.
In my sleep and in his awake I am found.
My life with him permeates of promethean heat, of longings quenched, of rapturous immortality.
The pleasure of his skin stacked upon my soul only deadens my being when I arise in the day.
For empty is my bed and I just a mere lump of clay.
Alone, it is intolerable, for one cannot function & absorb the torture of blocked possibility.
So I have chosen to live in sanity.
For what’s a dreamer to do when trapped inside their awake,
but to bridge the gap, rescue the dream from being lost, at stake.
The origins of this life that exists inside black lids, I know not of.
Perhaps a love, so benevolent, a man, a spirit so prodigious, that no conceivable birth from nature, reincarnation itself, can interrupt.
Conquered, our breath hath focused its way through time.
Pillaging the process of winter, summer, spring and fall;
We decided upon inseparability through any means at all.
And now, his reality is my dream.
Expired are the days of wanting,
As he remains surrendered to me, I shall remain my feet off ground my heart in heavens, un-yielding to my awake.
Varnished we remain, I clinging to him, like warm bark upon a shivered tree.
For is it not in our insanity that we are truly free?
February 10, 2013
To this experience, she was a guest.
Her usual floppy stance became erect and watchful.
Her eyes scintillated and sunken in fright
As a phantom, superior and with bizarre curiosity
Arose, deliberate, detached and delighted while dismembering itself
Inside the lucidity of a half- remembered dream where
All walls collapsed
Atoms took to beat and
Form neglected the boundaries of human conceptualization.
And while reality took to bed possibility
Buildings skipped from side to side, back and forth in comical repetition.
Red became green, blue, pink and plush purple.
Numbers echoed their “I am’s” until they, like a string of pearls, conjoined into a choir of nothing but decoration in an empty space.
Fatality became a companion only to walking apathy
Bombastic unpredictability became soothing potential
Quick became irrelevant
And like the sloth, all had abandoned the clock
And just like that, slow became comfortable.
This outer body experience left her observing the shell she originally inhabited
As all it’s questions, and pondering and confused, rampant vocalization,
Silenced her ghostly lips, and all that remained, was one thought
“Am I dead, or am I free?” a wonder that lasted but a second,
For suddenly the turbulence of beauty sliced into her experience
And the happiness of a moment coded in the feeling of a kiss;
Encircled, nuzzled and clutched every molecule
Below and between the gaps of every impossibility.
And a voice breathed forth the
Absence of fear and the presence of peace into an anxiety filled form
Everything was nothing, and nothing was everything.
And all that mattered, embraced the obsolete.
Closed eyes, and in the silence of her peace, her skin whispered, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
And in the dark, the face of an old man, expressionless, and bound to no sense of gravity
With one look, injected truth into into her barely beating veins,
“My love, thou inhibits all and everything. Boundless, you are the mother, father, daughter and son of creation. And your soft gel like tissues, afloat inside a castle of bones? A mere means of transport in a sea of possibility.”
And while her veins pouted in swollen satisfaction, with her last ounce of strength before her soul cavorted with a sleeping body, she said,
“I understand now, but if I forget later?”
And with no words, he thumped the answer into her heart,
“Then close your eyes and open your child.”
With those last words, she awoke
Drenched in the knowing that there was nothing more to be done,
She surrendered to trying and excavated complexity from the jaws of her trained mind.
And her eyes, drooped in the reckless abandonment of being in love with the infinite,
Tickled inside her enlivened flesh.
For there was no becoming she already was.