27th What woke me? Ears strain. Heart shudders. Cast off ancient sheets. Rise. This is a long lost home. Stained by shivering shades of black and blue, it presses. Silence is pristine. The space is so soft, ominous, like a dream. But it is not. I am home. I am alone. Where are they? From bedroom to kitchen to livingroom roam on feet that wish to falter. A scream. A blur. I'm flung to the floor. Fists slam straight into my face, "You left me! It's your fault! You left me! It's your fault!" chants a shadow puppet brother. But his words are weightless. His fists are phantoms. I laugh around his fury..."Dreaming!" Lucid will forces the rage swept shadow to rise. Hold it high. It floats, shadow amid shadow, twisting, glitching, flailing. Brother shakes the world with a scream. I stand. "No fighting. There are other things to do in dreams. And besides, you left us..." He shrieks, "Your fault. Family left me. Left me. Your fault!" "I wasn't the one abusing his wife and ki..." "Your fault!" he screams with demon rage. A flurry of fists rips my way. I remain untouched on several levels. Walk away? Will him away? Warp to another dream? No. He will see any retreat as weakness, an invitation to stay an haunt. I tire of being haunted. With frightening calm, reach into my brother's shadow and grip his living spine. Rip it out. Crush it to the floor. The rest of his shadow follows, drifting strings of twitching tendons. They fade into nevermore. Still haunting the halls of my own youth, search shadows for a sign. Nothing. Now what? A reality check strengthens my light. I should exorcise this place. The final ghost to be banished will be mine. But first, the final room. Mind is shining. Heart is stone. Spirit is steel. All demons will be undone... but in this room there stand none. Instead, upon my mother's bed, sits a mountain of of man, his flesh a gallery of bright, tribal tattoos. He speaks softly, swiftly, in tongues my mind can not unwind. Sit and listen. Ever so slowly I think I can nearly hear his truth...
26th - Lost Dreams 27th Lot Locked Crowded parking lot will neither allow me to move forward or back. There is no escape. In frustration I realize that there is escape, Slip out the driver window and walk away. Deal with the abandonment when the time comes 28th Soldier Boy He comes for us relentlessly and colored in cultures of red. Our end will come at the hands of a soul-less patriot. We flee and attempt to love the lingering moments of life we have left.
Angels or Demons? Only grass, sky, house, apple tree, and solitary me. Sweet solitude and silence. Then a Predator sound. Rush outside. A monocle will reveal the invader. But before it is seen, a man floats down from the sagging roof. Now stand between them, an angel of the lord and a predator turned Mandalorian. We scheme to crush a dream. Tangled Lives Rolling knots of unkempt hair refuse to be tamed. Within the hills and valleys of tangles thrives a world of insects and snakes. Comb carefully around them to ease the uncoiling of their cosmos. Also a set of dreams I didn't write down. Hope to be adding the a little later when they return to me.
Skyshake Love old lyrics. Dance the storm. Learn to suffer thunderous things. When clouds collapse and sun spears shine, reclaim the world and kiss the sky. "See the lights!" she cries. Above golden hour and scraps of grey slither rainbows of northern serpent rays. "How do you say it, in your way? They shake the sky?" She asks. I answer. We both welcome the heavenly end. I Love You Can't comprehend the whispers. The words should be warm like a burst of sun some snow blown day. There is only a chill. He sings again, again again but still there is only chill. Finally he screams, "I love you, idiot!" I spread a mile wide moron smile, spin, and walk away. There is more warmth to be found in the wind on a winter, new moon night. Untie-able Floppy shoes. Sloppy feet. Can not get anywhere. Walkers and scurry-ers surge around the boulder I become. Attempt to tighten laces but they are slippery, shifty things refusing to be knotted.
Twenty Third Dream Webs Wake. World is dark drenched. Not a spark of light to guide. Leaden limbs slog. Twitch. Struggle. Surrender. A familiarity flutters, a swell of ethereal moths. Is this a dream? Or the dream before a dream? Slip sideways through webs of space... "Dreaming... " Allow the slip. Embrace the fall. Darkness parts. Land, lucid, in the lightless hall of my dream spun home. "Dreaming," I announce to all. Wave a hand gently through the webs of the wall. Push through. Through. Through. Fall. Wake.
Updated 03-24-2025 at 07:47 PM by 101265
22nd Evergreen Girl She is stuck in an evergreen. The tree morphs and bends, artfully evades helping hands that reach for her. "How did you get up there?" I call. "I don't know," she answers and then reality checks. Wide eyes. Wiley grin. She leaps from the crown and soars off on the wind. The rest of us lurch off upon our non lucid feet. Giraffes Headed From a naked lower human half sprouts two giraffe necks and heads. It staggers about. We do nothing but watch the wobbling monstrosity. There is a twisted beauty to the being but my camera is not here to capture it. Hunting Hunters One slumbers, sprawled across my couch. The other lumbers, rummaging my house. They are hiding. An affection grows, though I barely know these two intrusions. In the blink of the eye they are gone. I had wished to tag along this time. But then, were they not hunting me just the other day? Now, it seems, has come my hunting day.
Winchesters With new moon eyes, scarlet grins, relentless sins, Winchesters run rabid. Finally, feet refuse to flee. Stand. Wait. Brace my soul for unholy fate. But they two tremble like a mirage. "You aren't even real," I dare. Send them off in a dust-devil dance. Now stride off to seek survivors. Hungering Insatiably she hungers for his touch, embrace, and taste. When he is away she licks, nibbles, and suckles on what rigid shapes she finds. It is both comical and concerning. "I'm not a nympho," she asserts, "Or maybe I am but only for him." She wishes it were otherwise. She wants back her unwedded world. He returns and her exclusive wants become unfurled.
Screamers The world is awash in glitz and glimmer. Steel and concrete shine. Mirrored anthills rise. Cords and cables like chrome coated webs crisscross dawning skies. Lavish lords and luxurious ladies sashay through pristine ways And all is beautiful but for the beams and the voices. Everything and everyone screams... screams... screams. Blanket Maker An army marches. It is the color of dusty dollar bills uncrumpling against a tombstone sky. We barricade. We weaponize. We camouflage. A tank stampedes our way. Prepare for war. A line of women rises. They dare the tank to crush them down. It lurches forward. The oldest lady, in rippling threads, lays hands upon the rumbling beast. It flattens. Its green fades to copper and white. And as if it were a mere blanket, the elder folds the flattened tank and sets it lovingly aside. In this way she wins the war.
March has been pretty sketchy for dreams. But then i haven't made the proper time or space for them either. I do need to add my lunar eclipse night dreams. (pre eclipse) Lunatics The world winks black. Souls sense disaster. My lone heart mourns. I will miss this rusty moon. Shade windows. Lock doors. Search shadows on all floors. Calm babies. One sleeps west. One sleeps east. Arm myself with bouquets of blades. They glint out from between fingers. "Look at me. I'm Wolverine," attempt to jest. We are too tense. A movement on the porch. The lunatics are here. "Is someone at the door?" I whisper and slowly slink near. Sky Strings A slowly undulating sky is waves of blue and white. I am transfixed and attempt to decipher the shapes made by the shifting strings of shells. (post eclipse) Hell Run Tires slosh and sludge through boggy field. Water stands too thick, too deep. Try to back out but our beast coughs and dies. Others roar and spin. Can not escape the mess and mud. Smoke bellows from rears. Fire flares from fronts. None will help slow with the threatening glow that flickers neath the hood. Snuff out the flame. Abandon the game. There are better hells than these. Warped Space We flee into the empty embrace of a new found space. We are frightened. We are free. Rejoice with nothing but the clothes on our backs and a few sock tucked bills. She chooses the largest room as her own. I choose the smallest, heart hoarding hopes of minimalist mornings. Her floor is warped. We measure and make plans for her crooked place. "Look at the windows, we can watch the eclipse from here," I mention then forget what we are fixing. The place becomes a jumble of odd tilts and obtuse angles. Can't even care as I obsess over the coming of the blood moon.
March 1st Bender We mean to leap, just for the thrill, from a platform too tall and thin. A meaty man comes to stand at the top with us. The tower bends. Clench arms and legs round warped metal. We near slingshot off as the heavier one falls from the platform. Tower stands. Platform stills. Now comes our time to trust and leap, saved only by a bungee cord. Now, to the next thrill. Swift Step Out We are in line, for hours it seems. Step. Step. Step. Wait. This slow torment for a chance to enjoy a concert by Taylor Swift. Taylor Swift? Why am I here? Step out of line. Pass my ticket to a passer-by. Explore the streets of this strange city instead. Street Steaks Snow stands high. Sister and I sleigh ride until we shiver. She sparks a fire in a giant pothole mid street. We gather round to warm. Suddenly sister is grilling steaks over the street hole. A Studebaker slows and circles every so often. Keep our eyes sharp as steaks sizzle. Lake Blanket Waken to the warmth of sun upon my face and the chill of water about my body. I sleep on the sand. Except for my head, my entire body is covered by a crystal sleek blanket of lake. I am rested, languid, naked. People pass. Some stretch their claws my way. With a pacific hiss remind them that my nakedness is not an invitation. They heed. Flat Collapse A wide, flat construction collapses. I see it with my dusty eyes. I feel it with my rusty soul. Far too many died. Try to out run the memory. Everywhere I go it follows me on television, on my phone, on the lips of morbid creatures. Tri Job Skittering again through familiar halls. Happy to return, dutifully I perform the tasks of my three jobs. Should be overwhelmed but oddly, I am not. A jumble of patterns smooths the madness. Collapse She flips her phone my way, "Look at this!" Upon the screen is a booming crash and broken screams. Turn my face away. "I dreamed that just last night. I'm afraid I'm starting to get precognitive dreams," comes the quietest of confessions. She thinks it's a great, god granted gift. It is not a gift if all such dreams are of future disasters.
Feb 27th Fires & Mentor Grass fires crackle closer. Warn cabin owners. "It'll pass. It always does," she sings. Kayji speaks of her mentor and it is realized that some of us still have much to learn. Two Crows It leans over a cliff, wispy arms waving in canyon winds. A nest crowns the conifer. Within are sheltered the children of two crows. Kayji, desiring a crow child, climbs the leaning tree. Crow children fall. Kayji falls. Crows dive after. Run to the cliff edge. Call her name. Can't hear her. Can't see her. "Don't worry," says an old woman, "The crows have her. You'll not see her again, I expect." Not a scrap of Kayji is ever found. Feb 28th NMF Tranduil Rescue From underground we stream, a company of dwarves and me. Past a clot of twisted trunks lies a cube shaped hole in the ground, a trap. Thranduil, king of the woodland realm, sloshes within. Near suffocating in mud he calls for aid. Tauriel rappels to rescue. A look lies between them. It is not for us to decipher. She lifts the king. Dwarves pull him to safety. We clean the sovereign and are celebrated in his realm. Political Office My home is new, stories tall, brimming and bright. It is a mini version of a childhood library. Kayji claims the enlightened upper levels. I remain in the main. From nowhere Marem and his father arrive. They search a place to base Marem's political office. They ask K. They are denied. There is but one office on the main floor. Marem and I split it. Our desks nearly fill the room. Despite the squeeze it all works out somehow.
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