Dreams

I do know that not a lot of people remember their dreams. And I admit that my own dreams are often vague and odd. However there have been a few times where I have had dreams that I remember years later.

First time: I was like nineteen and dreaming about Hawkeye and BJ from M.A.S.H.  I was nineteen in 1991, M.A.S.H. had been off the air for nine years. It was not even as though I was watching reruns as I was sharing an apartment downtown on Hargrave St. with two roommates. We did not even have a television. (Total story for another time) And that dream segued into a dream about my first love at the age of fourteen.

Second time: I had an amazing dream. It had to do with witches, a magic spell book, terror and every time I woke up, I fell right back into the dream when I fell back to sleep. Ogres appeared and Kings and Mages. When I awoke to get ready for work, I was pumped. I had dreamed the entire book. Within fifteen minutes it was gone. Devastated I was. When is anyone ever going to dream a dream like that??????

Third time: Last July. I was brutally sick. I staggered into work at 5:30 a.m. and begged the poor girl who I was training to please work for me. I had my head on the table falling back asleep as she was asking me questions. Summer and here I was wearing a sweater and a jacket. Next day she asked if she could step down. I was horrified but oh man was I ever sick.

I came home and between 6:15 a.m. when I crawled back into bed and until around 4:30 a.m. the next Saturday, I slept the sleep of the ill and dead. M brought me Tylenol, I crawled up the stairs and opened the door, she covered her mouth, dropped the tablets into my hand and ordered me back to bed. There were no dreams.

Until 4:30 a.m. (I actually woke myself up screaming) I had been reading a book in which Shadows played a huge part. No longer remember the book. Also to set the scene, I have had several dreams in which all the light bulbs are blown. No matter which lights I tried, every single one was burned out and there was not a bulb to be found anywhere. (If anyone knows what it means that all lights have burned out with no replacements please let me know. I looked it up on-line and there is no explanation.) I am in a castle. The sky is black, sharp slashes of lightening spearing the air, giving just enough light. Wicked winds blow through, my hair and cloak blinding me. My fingers find a switch and flick it. Nothing. Another slash of lightening. And I realize I am being followed.

For within the darkness shadows lurk. I have a staff. When I swing out the staff passes through the shadow and it dissipated. So while this inspired me and I swung this way and that, more shadows crowded in. And there was no damn light bulb to be found. At all, anywhere. Than I made a startling discovery. First one was that the staff I thought I was carrying, turned out to be my curtain rod from the living room. The second realization (there was still a lot of animosity at this time) was that the shadows actually were not attacking me. They were after my ex. Who it turns out was also in my dream. The castle was dilapidated.  Every shard of lightening showed me that. And I still could not find a damn light.

Let us now fast forward approximately ten months. Within the last two weeks, I have begun to dream. Nothing substantial, nothing that I even remember. During the day a small flash may come to me but not enough to piece the dream together.  And than this morning. I awoke at 6 a.m. and it was close to 7 before I fell back to sleep. But when I did, I had a dream. A dream about all the damn light bulbs being burned out.

While a great part of me is excited that I am finally dreaming/remembering my dreams again, there is a part that is scared. Once, my dreams were full of me loosing my teeth. Horrible dreams those were. They have since been replaced by dreams of no light anywhere, and I have to admit, that scares me more than my lips sinking in as my teeth fall out.

Broken Heart

He done broke my heart

the night we said good bye;

he to return to the feudal village,

I to dance across the public’s eye.

“That is not the way to start. It should read, he broke my heart the night we said good bye.”

“Why am I not allowed to write the way that I want to write? Why can I not use the language and speech of my childhood to portray the pictures my words create?”

“Because that is not how I brought you forth! I have taught and molded you to become the top Poetess of all times and you will continue to follow my path.”

“Yet they are my words, my truths why can I not use them they way I see fit?”

“Because you ungrateful wraith, without me you would not have this fame and fortune. Without me you would be back in that village you so long for mired in poverty.”

I lifted my head, greasy hair falling back, revealing pallid skin and blackened sleep deprived eyes. He loomed over top of me, pristine and put together. His suit a navy blue so dark it bordered on black, a piping red tie, winking tie pin, he was everything I had loved and now loathed.

He rested his large hands on the desk, leaning forward, the pungent aroma of his cologne overwhelming me. Citrus notes interspersed with undernotes of vanilla and sandalwood. I could smell my own stench, a mimosa of unwashed body and hair, the perspiration I sweat to come up with my creations. I was not the lovely Poetess revered in inner circles, I was the poet in a small cell, my emotions and anguish how I create.

The thick chains of dependency wound around my wrists, shackling my legs to the desk. Illusionary, yet they retained me as much as real chains would. I was caught in a web of my own making. But there was a choice, one that I had to make.

“It is time for you to leave,” I breathed. “Time for you to take your life and unentwine it from mine.”

“I am your King, your Maker,” he roared. “You will not take from me what I have worked for.”

“You have worked nothing, nothing that I already did not know. You wiped the ashes of childhood away and lead me along the path to stray,” I seethed. “You never meant for me to be this welcome, this loved, but plans have a way of changing and now the time has come.”

I glared up at him, daring a rebuke. Never had I spoken to him in such a way. His nostrils flared with unrequited rage. His body shook with the repressed desire to make me behave. He had lost and he knew it.

I felt my heart break in two

with the soft snick of the lock catching as the door closed;

He who had brought me up, who taught me polish and truth

my betrayer, my warden, a man of circumstance.