Tag Archives: dreams

To Dream of Jungles

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I am one of those people who likes to talk about dreams. Although I don’t tend to weight them too heavily in making life decisions, I like thinking about what they mean — I like the idea that dream interpretation could have significance, that our inner lives might actually be reflected there with some relevance to our conscious lives.

Recently, I’ve been unpacking and sorting through the stuff/clothes/junk I’ve accumulated over the six years since I graduated from high school. A couple of nights ago, I had a dream among the tins of old broken jewelry and perfume samples, I found a stash of green onions and broccoli, which was obviously of some concern given that these things have been packed away for a good amount of time. My interpretation? It’s time to use the green onions in the refrigerator that I bought for making peanut sauce about a week ago. It’s time. And I might be craving and increased broccoli intake.

Then last night, I stayed out late with old friends and when I got home, I almost fell asleep before falling into bed, which is definitely dangerous. Sleeping standing up is uncommonly difficult and I’m pretty sure the dangers are similar to those of having seizures or fainting suddenly.

This morning I woke up dreaming that I had been employed to design jungles — yes, like the Amazonian things in the arena of the equator where it is hot and sweaty. My job was to create jungle space everywhere. (An overwhelming task given my complete lack of jungle-building knowledge and also, in my dream, the apparent resistance of most communities to the artificial creation of jungles in their neighborhoods.) I think this might be a sign that I’m concerned about global warming. In addition, it might be related to some job search anxiety and my sense that I am underqualified for a variety of the jobs to which I’m currently applying.

Either way, I’m enjoying the dreams. Keep ’em coming, subconscious. And I will draw a picture of a jungle for the twins.

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Disappear

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Disappear
into the cave.

Go
beyond where you imagined stopping
grab the wisp of wind ahead, drawn through the air
as if someone has illustrated
this life

hold tight to the windy wisp
and stand tall
or know it will drag you

drink in the mystic chant
in the distance
see the glow of a fire
on the horizon

smell smoke

and run through it
after it
into it

somewhere the burning will be hottest
and later it will cool
the steam will rise from the coals

gather the flickering steam in your hands
likely drawn with chalk
hide it away
remember

A satisfying end.

I Would

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I’d wait ten thousand clicks
to see you again

I’d tell nine hundred stories
eat one million lemons
ride three thousand ponies
fight two hundred lions.

I would harpoon a seagull
if it meant I might see you.
I’d hold it close and hike
a mountain to the sun.
I would offer its clean body
to the sky.

And I would remind the sky
of the dreams I send
by night, to fold round the moon.

Still, it would not be enough.

The Color of Fruit

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The photograph I took

with the colors and the fruit

was my favorite;

 

if only colors could always be so bright

grass so vibrant in green

sky so crisp in blue

 

that’s the word we use for skies, right?

Crisp?

 

And what is the sun

if not already bright, but

couldn’t it be more flaming

 

more burningly yellow

 

I heard that people do not always dream

in color

that dreams come in black-and-white

like an old TV screen

 

And my own dreams, I cannot picture

cannot remember if they come brilliantly

or all in dull grays and shades

 

Maybe I am thirsty for something

more vivid. Maybe

my subconscious has selected fruit

to be the color of my dreams

 

Maybe I am dreaming now