Nine Dreams of Anguish

Prologue

I thought I’d never go to sleep again.

I’ve heard these stories circulating in nines all over the earth;

small villages and big cities terrified beyond measure.

I imagined the worst that could still happen.

*

The full moon shone behind the drape; it emitted an orange glow, as if all forests, deserts and seas were on fire;

leopard, lion and wolf guarding the gates of Hell.

The conflagration of all my senses led me to sink my cheek into the soft feathers of the pillow,

leaving me gliding gently into the Empyrean Heaven.

*

In this dream of dreams, anything could happen.

I was not alone; someone else was watching over me;

images flashed before my eyes, like lights at the end of a tunnel,

and this is how it etched itself into my memory.

First Dream: Limbo

The door to the first dream swung open, as if I had a key to avoid peeking through the keyhole.

I'm well-informed, native, I think I know everyone here;

I walk hand in hand with Homer, Horace, Ovid, Hippocrates, Aristotle, Socrates, Plato.

I'm well-connected, as if I were the mayor of the entire city.

*

I wonder why it’s not like that in real life,

where everything seems upside down, out of sorts.

Is it catatonia neatly affecting my inklings in each case?

That I always end up on the shoulders of people who don't support me?

*

It’s different here, among Julius Caesar, Hector and Electra.

I can observe all the sins committed in the name of humanity.

I can’t bear the ruins of my house crushed by a plane landing nearby;

I cover my eyes (though I cannot see myself), turn away and in anguish abandon my sister and walk away.

Second Dream: Lust

I’m meeting Cleopatra and Helen of Troy for lunch, all ladies in the dark;

languid and seductive, too much perfume prevents me from concentrating.

Though they lure me, move me, I’m not their prime target.

I witnessed them fluttering their eyelashes wantonly.

*

Achilles and Tristan are the boys of their cravings; women shed their clothes, as in mythology.

They speak with emphasis, the body language of love; they’re laughing, trying to get attention.

Men catch the eye of ladies in black, with golden lips.

They open their covetous gates to their little world.

*

Then the wedding rings gleam on both fingers of the gentlemen; they’re not free;

adulterous urges have never been to my taste, trust me.

Yet the ladies don’t seem to care; their charms are at higher command, but that doesn’t mean

that these men aren’t under the command of others.

*

I’m trying to sort out this minor flaw by talking to my girlfriends,

but every time I open my mouth, their eyes are closed, as if in mystical ecstasy.

There’s nothing I can do here; forgive me if my qualities are drowning in excessive debauchery

soaking up sexy ladies’ bodies; I move onto the next dream.

Third Dream: Gluttony

I see my dad strolling around the garden on his way to do some chores;

pruning shears in hand, rubber boots on legs, emptiness in the eyes.

Always busy around the house, never inside; outdoorsy, but not sporty;

pruning vines, swaying on the swing of life in nature, at a glance with nothing to hide.

*

His maw is obscenely open in my dream, gorging on food and information,

but giving nothing away, never taking responsibility.

He holds my laptop on a familiar street trying to learn all the new things

for all the decades he neglected it, locked up in the cell of his own house, which he built himself.

*

He thought the entire world was there, he kept silent about events,

as if it were the centre of the world, even if it were quite the opposite.

He never cared as they were not of his interest in the classical sense of the word.

His curiosity piqued as the TV showed all the nastiness of the lowlife.

*

And my companion Virgil then said, “Beware of those who keep mum,

those who insist on keeping their mouths shut or using only the same words from their secret vocabulary;

they’re never frank, plotting in the dark of their own zest lunacy.”

Then another dream appeared in the spectrum of my vision.

Fourth Dream: Greed

I found myself in a foreign-familiar place to which I always return,

but it was much smaller than in reality, more like a village; everyone was looking at me.

As always, I was exchanging currency; the others’ faces were friendlier than that,

where I spent the first thirty years of my life.

*

Among them was a poor young woman, now a dowager;

greedy like Croesus, the Lydian king and commander,

who led a luscious life, cared little during the conquest of the Ionian city of Ephesus,

scrapped a diplomatic marriage in the name of Artemis.

*

She was also there to build the mansion and to support her husband.

The entire building rose higher and higher, like the Tower of Babel

mixing our perceptions, playing with our dulled senses,

until she had to single-handedly make one’s marble good.

*

She dared thwart all my attempts to enlighten her

that by leading a life of gluttony and greed while attending Mass

is contradictory; she still went there, like the last worshipper.

I couldn’t get her to pay for her sins, believe me, so I left the scene towards the next dream.

Fifth Dream: Wrath

I roll like a ruthless tumbleweed filled with spasms of wrath.

Teenage angst is at work here again, in my dream built on spalls of reality.

Everyone is an enemy; they don’t let me get through smoothly.

Wherever I want to go, there’s a sign saying, “No trespassing”.

*

They guard their possessions well with dogs, guns, security gates,

yet I get through despite their hostility.

Let my crowbar break into their homes and let the yellow lighter ignite their sense of superiority;

I got here in total darkness; I killed all the hospitality wolves.

*

I never wanted to be a criminal, but in my dream, I am one;

I heard they always have an IQ well above average, so now I’m enjoying it.

No one noticed me as I approached the gated property.

No dogs barking, no pain in the ass, the coast was clear.

*

As I opened the first door, the brightest glare illuminated me,

like there’s all the old-world gold inside, no chance

to put it in a bag as I didn’t have one with me.

So, I moved to the next room, hoping to find something of better utility.

*

To my great surprise, the same large number of valuables was next in line:

lapis lazuli, carbuncles, diamonds, silver and other precious metals and stones.

I had to close my eyes as their brightness really stung my eyes.

When I tried to open them again, I was on my way to another dream.

Sixth Dream: (Forgotten)

Seventh Dream: Violence

I see myself as a teenager again, deliberately abused by my father’s hands.

I must resort to stratagems to outsmart him, poor ol’ man on the lion’s prowl,

as if he were trying to angle in some godforsaken pond.

I hide in the closet so he will never find me.

*

I go outside and see black rapists of my friend’s daughter.

She screams, I can’t help it; I cover my ears tight.

I call for help, but no one’s there; the cops are looking at me,

like I’m invisible, and it’s always like that in my dreams.

*

I look into one house where a Muslim man beats his wife; she’s lying

on the floor next to my door, and her family says, “Don’t get involved”.

I won’t, don’t worry. No matter how hard I try, there’s a dream reality,

and I can never make it happen; I hear an ambulance, but I’m too far away.

*

The degradation of my senses causes me to slide down the gutter

making me vulnerable, out of control, weak, stumbling.

There’s a group of football fans returning from games;

I’m beaten and bruised; my mouth is bleeding, and I have a nasty scar above my eyebrow.

*

It’s not fair that while witnessing violence, I’m also the target.

How could I end up the same? I ask myself.

But since I can’t see my body, I can only sense things,

as in every dream, I move on to the next one.

Eighth Dream: Fraud

I saw great malice in a small town; someone wanted to be over the top,

but he lacked what surely the greatest leaders should have - decency.

I visited this place of my choice; an Amur leopard crossed the road.

It’s cold; there’s snow everywhere.

*

I’m stalked by a few as I’m alone;

for no reason, and yet they keep staring at me,

as if they wanted to tell me things of great importance.

Their voices muffled by gauze; wanton cruelty dazzled their eyes.

*

They know I have knowledge of certain things.

They committed their fraud to get the sickly sweet fruits of power.

The mayor is never the mayor when he steals.

He will soon find out that he must educate himself.

Ninth Dream: Treachery

In this dream I met a couple - a married man with a mistress.

She looked up at the orange glow of the moon and the trust that surrounded her.

She knew her numbered days, and soon she would be the one

who had this man, or she won’t see him at all.

*

She leaned on his shoulder, searching for happiness that wasn't there;

she couldn’t count how many times the treacherous wolf had stood in her way,

howling at the moon about family - the army behind their protégé.

I watched them disappear into the darkness.

Epilogue

While I tried to make my way through the nightly bright circle,

all silly things seem to have a significant advantage over me; I closed their door and they reappear,

as in eternal darkness, to have ten thousand several doors, once closed,

they spring up like flowers in the greenest meadow.

*

All in one night, nothing explained, only more obscured,

trying to figure out the meaning of situations that occurred in a split second.

When my eyelids were closed, I couldn’t do anything, not move a single finger,

let alone change the course of events, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to change it in real life.

*

All these oddities permeate my dreams, transferred from reality.

Sometimes I don’t know where from, and they look at me,

trying to tell me the truths of life not always heard,

but in a dream, they’re smoother, as in a movie or on stage.

*

I feel exhaustion from hiding my secrets.

Violence against another human being causes the greatest shame for the soul,

leaving traces of physical pain and even more;

I always remember this when I’m awake.