Seven Dreams

1

Okay, so one time I was dreaming ....

(was there a full moon?)

.... and some things were going down, you know, just crazy dream shit, and then, all of a sudden;

All the pictures on all the walls overthrew the well designed tyranny of the rectangles (rectyrants!) and melted with goopy gusto over all the edges of all the frames (which were left visions of the abyss, but in a nice way) onto all the carpets across all the floors under all the doors pouring out into the streets of la la la and then by the light of several dozens of those darling plastic chile peppers (andale, andale!) they (the pictures - try to keep up) began to transform into carefully careless and mournfully happy or fuzzily hairless impassively sappy and some might even say angelically monstrous artworks (or artplays hahaha) but no humans saw this because all the blinds (or curtains or yeah even sheets cause plebs) in all the windows of all the homes of la la la were closed tight against the night (you know, stranger danger) but luckily the 'spirit of speedy' (a kind of fast ghost) took a slow picture with 'the inside of non-awareness' (a kind of camera) to display in 'the hall of all things that do not really happen' (a kind of cafeteria) for the viewing pleasure of all ponies clever enough to gain admittance which was not one single pony except yours truly who was kind enough to commit it all to memory (ponies have excellent memories - did you know that?) and then record the whole peculiar event onto this little piece of sunshine (you know - sunshine, photosynthesis, trees, paper, virtual paper, DUH) to be read when you're less busy or perhaps over summer holiday (insert period)

You're welcome

pony the poet

(okay, yes, pony the poet insinuated s/he was clever and even came right out and braaaagged about being kind and of having an excellent memory but still please notice how pony does not capitalize 'pony the poet' because you see pony is really quite the modest and unassuming poet and pony made me say that and threatened to kick me in the head if I didn't please help me!)

Interlude

These words are most likely a lie, a lie The trickster inside me won't die, won't die The rube and the rumor, the shameless presumer These words are most likely a lie, a lie

2

Living on the inside The time goes tick tick tick

There's a sameness here In the drawn shade and electrical hum ..... But let's move on

The kids selling me coffee seem interchangeable But that's just me being a bore What's life for?

Of course that's a stupid question, but it rhymes And right now it's for feeding my caffein addiction But the now has changed by now

Fifty-eight and counting Life's as deep as it's getting, I reckon

Recently, I attended a performance This place was something like a modern, non-denominational church Two middle aged men with guitars Looking vaguely Indian, in a bit of traditional Hindi garb, Were singing their original (I suppose) songs

So there I was, not terribly engaged But at some point my attention was captured by a refrain A very singable, simple refrain The first silence is the last The first silence is the last

And, as they repeat this line, I notice, to my left, A young woman, Confident and hip, Grow a broad smile across her face And shake her head yessss!

Let’s say, in modern parlance, she was thinking 'THIS!' Well, this all happened in a dream And, for what it’s worth, I can’t remember the tune

3

True story;

On 5/19 at 12:30 AM (didn’t note the year - sometime in my 30s - calendar says no full moons available) I woke with these exact words in my head;

First time my tongue caught fire, boss sent me out for some Oscar Mayer Band-Aids.

Swoosh! Poof!

Bet you’re wondering how I did that?!?

Wink, wink Bull’s eye! All for a dollar

4

I walked North and South and East and West

And each of these ways was a kind of test

And when I had worn a hole in the heart of walking ….

This dream was such a tease - I tried to finish it upon waking, but to no avail. So, what happened when I had worn a hole in the heart of walking? Who knows. Nevertheless, I’m still here - all these years later.

5

Holy brother -

Do not exist.

Exist at all and disappear forever.

Huh - WTF dream - playing with paradox? Why holy? Why brother?

6

Now, everybody knows only two things are meaningful - where you’ve been, and where you’re going ….

But I’m here to tell you that nothing is meaningful - absolutely nothing.

LOL, this dream was so sure of itself! Really dream? Like, what about where you are RIGHT NOW? Ever hear of the PRESENT! Still, I remember waking from this dream laughing and a lingering carefree, buoyant feeling.

7

The nowness of things in the future

That’s it - short and .… cryptic. This was the last of my word dreams - in my early 50s by now (now!) I remember waking from this dream - the middle of the night - and having a sense of something urgent and vital being communicated. I stumbled and fumbled looking for a way to record the words - saying them over and over in my mind …..

The next day, looking at what I had notated, hmmm.

Give it to me straight, dream.

Dream says, nope.