Dreams are weird.
People running through, stopping to tell me
I’m worshiping fire; or, was it that I was like fire?
Some said that I should follow scripture,
but the scripture pages were blank,
yet still screamed messages
in extinct languages.
I’m listening but not understanding.
I feel the presence, like earthy vibrations.
Would it help if dreams had punctuation?
What does anyone know
about inside dreams? Or outside?
I wonder about memories like that.
Aren’t they sort of like dreams we carry?
Wide awake and still dreaming.
Dreams go back and forth
like palindromes, where past and future
interchange so I don’t know what realm I’m in.
It could be either/or at any moment.
Forget about tidiness; there are blank spaces.
Messiness and illogic are givens to be cherished.
They are time openers and teasers, moments with
or without sounds, right and wrong at once,
and yet a memory is released and then the wonder
of its time in a place, or a place that slipped through time.
We dream to remember,
but don’t forget to dream.
From: Dreams, Memories, And Leaps Into The Wilderness
Unpublished MS p. 1
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