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
Posts tagged ‘dream’
Dream…
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
Okay, so…
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.
Fire Eater…
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…a poem
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
Dreams…a short story
“WAKE UP!” screamed a voice, making me squeeze my eyes closed even tighter. “CAN’T YOU HEAR ME? WAKE UP NOW!”
I turned over, pulled the blankets over my head, and hoped the yelling would stop.
“DO YOU WANT TO DIE?”
“Well, no. Of course not,” I muttered, stretching a bit. “It must be Monday,” I moaned. “That’s what’s wrong. It’s Monday.”
“YOU’RE DREAMING OUT!” shouted the voice.
“Dreaming out?” I whispered, frowning. “As in, bleeding out?”
“EXACTLY, NOW OPEN YOUR EYES AND GET UP!”
I pushed myself up and threw my legs over the side of the bed. I felt as if I weighed as much as The Great Wall of China, but I didn’t lay down again. “Why are you yelling at me?” I asked, forcing my eyes open. “Um, you look just like…me.”
“I AM you. You’re the dream and I’M the dreamer but you somehow screwed things up.
“I did? How?”
“I don’t know how, just get up. You keep dreaming me and I’m on my way to work. You’re supposed to be gone during the day. You shouldn’t EXIST in real time.”
“I don’t get it,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I feel real.”
“You aren’t real. You’re a figment of my imagination.”
“Oh.”
“I’M the real person. You’re the dream.”
“How do you know that?”
“What?”
“How do you know that you’re the real person and not the dream?”
“I just know.”
“Really pathetic answer.”
“Look, there can’t be two of us here at the same time, and I have to get to work, so you have to get out of my bed and go back to wherever you came from, or wherever you go, when I’m not dreaming you.”
“Why can’t we both be real?”
“We can, just not in the same place, or on the same plane.”
“Why not?”
“There can’t be duplicates. There can’t be two of the same living beings at the same time, in the same place. It doesn’t WORK that way. What don’t you understand?”
“I think there can be. I mean, we’re both here at in the same place, at the same time.”
She pulled out her phone and pressed a button. “Sammy, how do I get rid of a dream person?” She listened for a minute, then said. “Got it. Thanks.”
“Are you going to get rid of me?”
“You can come back when I dream about you next time.”
“But the bed’s nice and soft.”
“Too bad. Here’s the plan. You can leave by yourself, or I’ll have to erase you.”
“What does that mean? Erase me?”
“Okay, we’ll do it the hard way.”
She gathered the herbs, the candles and the nail polish remover and laid them out in the proper way. Then she said the words that Sammy told her to say, and the room got darker. She mixed the herbs and added the polish remover, then cast the spell.
“I don’t feel so good,” said the self on the bed.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t have another me walking around.”
“You’re mean.”
“I’m not. It’s all about physics.”
“No, you’re just mean.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, watching her other self fade away. “I’ll see you in my dreams.”
She waited until she was gone, then straightened the sheets, and finished her coffee. She picked up her bag and headed out of her apartment. Outside she was greeted by a beautiful blue sky and a warm breeze. Traffic was heavy and people were everywhere. She stood on the sidewalk and looked around. She didn’t recognize anything. She didn’t know where she was.
“What have I done?” she whispered, her edges already beginning to fade.
Dream…
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
Okay, so, the dream…
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.
Dream…
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Rethinking Life 
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