Wild Horses…a poem
wild horses
race through my dreams
kicking up dust
their manes flying
sweat
wet on their backs
the sound of their
hoofs
pounding like thunder
in my ears
as they
lovingly
remind me
to stay free
Poto: Pixabay
wild horses
race through my dreams
kicking up dust
their manes flying
sweat
wet on their backs
the sound of their
hoofs
pounding like thunder
in my ears
as they
lovingly
remind me
to stay free
Poto: Pixabay
dream
of soft caresses
kisses
and hugs
treats
good food
and a soft bed
dream
of running free
of hearing laughter
and your name
called by
someone you love
dream
Photo: Fabian Gieske
Unsplash
I’ve had two reoccurring dreams in my life. One is horrific and the other one is this…
I’m standing on a hill holding my mother’s hand. It really is my mother. I’m about six. She’s wearing a plain cotton printed “house dress,” like the one’s they wore in the 40s, I think. I don’t know what I’m wearing. We are staring out over the land, which is all jagged black glass.
My mother is a scientist. The only people alive are scientists. I can see the building we all live in, from the hill. The sky is thick dirty orange. We never see the sun or what was once, so I’ve been told, a blue sky.
She is thinking. I am quiet.
Children are born to become scientists, and continue the work. There is no childhood, there is only the work.
All I can see in the dream, is the black glass, and the weird light from the dome, far down the hill.
I know my mother, as well as the others, is trying to find ways to bring the earth back to life, even in the smallest way. Some of the scientists were prepared for the “Event,” they warned everyone about years ago. That’s why we have food…seeds from the seed bank…as well as everything else in the building.
I am going to be the kind of scientist my mother is.
The entire dream consisted of us standing on the hill holding hands, looking at the jagged black glass. But there was a breeze, because her hair and her dress were moving. She wasn’t wearing a coat, and she didn’t seem cold, so it must have been warm.
We just stood there. I’m not sure she even knew she was holding on to me, she was so lost in thought and what if’s.
***
My grandson called me on his way home from work, just now, and he asked me if I had seen, or heard, the latest climate change report…that it’s too late, and the water will keep rising and he kept talking…but just like that…
I was back in the dream….standing on the glass hill, holding my mother’s hand.
I might have wanted to be a lot of things during my life, but I can honestly say that FIRE EATER, was never one of them. Nope. It never crossed my mind. Maybe if I got my wish and turned into a dragon…but that never happened, so…
Photo: Cameron Venti
Unsplash
sleep
and dream
of beautiful things
for soon
the real world
will push it’s way into
your life
and the clouds
will no longer speak to you
and the unicorns
and angels
will be replaced
with video games
and war
as you struggle
to remember
all that was beautiful
before you
came here
Photo: AdeleMorrisPhotography
Pixabay
in my dreams
fairies ride on dragonflies
and unicorns
wear armor
angels dance
on the heads of pins
and blue birds
carry happiness
tucked neatly
beneath their wings
starlight
can be kept in jars
to light a traveler’s way
and moonbeams
chase each other
through tree tops
even during the day
rain
never fall on those
who wish
to remain dry
and the wind
plays well with others
the sky changes colors
according to it’s mood
and laughter
sounds like wind chimes
floating through the air
it’s nice when dreams
are fanciful
when beauty’s all around
when joy
and peace
and kindness
is all that can be found
I’m interested in a LOT of things but dreams are extremely low on the tenth page of my list. I think most dreams are about the parallel lives we are currently living, while others are actually trying to tell us something, it’s just that I don’t care. There’s no way to know and that makes it a waste of time for me. Others love to interpret them and that’s great. Having said that, I have had a reoccurring dream for a very long time. Years and years, as a matter of fact.
I’m in the mountains (gray and blue mountains, Everest colored mountains). The mountains are close to each other and I can see their stone faces clearly. They all have cave entrances, almost at the top, facing across from each other. In the center of the entrance sits a man or woman, in lotus position, eyes closed. The man I always visit looks just like an old asian man with a long white beard. He’s never rises, but sits there and talks to me. The people sitting in the other entrances (they are pretty far away from each other so you can just make them out), are a cross-section and represent people from everywhere. The man tells me the same thing every single time.
“We are the Dreamers. We Dream the world into being. We live a long time, but every now and then someone new arrives and takes his or her place among us. This is necessary so that when one of us must go, the Dream is not broken but continues.”
I always remain silent. I just listen.
“It has always been this way,” he continues. “But things are changing. Few come to replace those of us who must leave. The old ways are disappearing and there are few Dreamers to replace us. The Dream cannot be held together without the Dreamers. The world is in turmoil and the Dreamers are few. The Dreamers hold the world together, without them, the world does not exist.”
Well, that’s it. He isn’t concerned, as much as telling me what is happening. They are trying hard to hold the world, as we know it, together but there are too few left to Dream. Fewer all the time. He just wants me to know and that’s why he tells me the exact same thing every time. The Dream/world is unraveling.
Make of it what you will but that’s my reoccurring dream and for some reason, I think I’m supposed to tell you about it…now.
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