A dream visited me last night


A dream visited me last night
The houses of my imagination were flying in the tornados of logic committees.
The warm air was filled with grandma’s cardigan sleeve tissues and crumpled wrappers of juicy fruit the taste is going to move you at the speed of light, hand signed Einstein historical chalkboards
Covered in formulae of regrets, and a side note to research the forgotten art of cleaning chalkboard erasers that were potentially filled with thousands of hours of mistakes.

The flamingos momentarily saved me from the anvils of guilt
Because dream logic

A dream came and left me last night
empty coffee mugs, leaky pens, half finished journals next to empty ramen bowls.
The pixies had learned my computer passwords, and ordered self help books on overcoming procrastination, but got the delivery address wrong
I didn’t have enough time to cancel the order, the package was on a priority vector.
I called it a chewing rubber gum match, and the laws of physics were blue pencil edited
Nothing could break, so my heart was weightless and hovering over a fibbonaci spiral gravity well being
the matter was only in time, the space was nothing more than stillness and waiting without moments.

A dream left a to do list for me
I thought that was rather rude, seeing how I had the grill heated up, avacados charred parallel to the juicy steaks, and I even bought the Dreams favorite beer.
I won’t drink that brand
It always left a longing taste for something else on my spirited pallette.
I’m sure that we did talk about this one day off from anxiety and depression for months now, our usual meeting place
at the corner of daydream and wishful thinking.
The Dream put feet up on coffee table, and picked up the latest draft of the nine worlds that live in my imagination, and said, How does it End?

I replied back, Just like the Theater, it’s a mystery, we just have to wait to find out. Besides, Epiphanies are Personal Apocalypsyes
Rude to long term plans, inconsiderate
Both have momentum and tend to cop out with their own justifications.
I can’t just do it like the time travelling Mystery authors back(work)wards from How it was done. It’s really hard to write consensual polyamourous romantic comedies, without writing tragic hetero-mono-chromatic comic cookie cutter characters that don’t communicate.
Which brings us to the source of comedy, is other peoples conflict.
Terror Schadenfraude is so last season and political, it is overdone.
Somewhere, there is a grease fire of procrastination burning, and the guilt is grilling me.
There is no amount of aloe vera cadabra or hello it’s me again to stop writing ideas
Untold stories turning into black charred leaves scattering to the Four winds.
The Dream left me, with a dirty grill and broken empties to clean up.

A Dream sexted me last night, poorly.
Hot breath, and hands that caressed firm and then softly across arched backs and hips, a symphony of pleasure was playing out in the Australian Opera House, because dream logic. Spray painted in glitter gold letters three stories high
ALL OF THIS IS REAL
signed the Dreaming and the Great Outback.
(Not the steakhouse, or a 50’s rock band, because there was more important things held onto a stake tied down to the outbackyard.)
There was a pre-recorded message from a Rainbow Serpent
with directions to You Are Here, This is Now.
But there was no map quest place to go back
To get close to that moment where everyone was singing in the key of O.
I couldn’t sing
Like I said, a dream sexted me last night. Poorly.

I visited a book today, labelled Dream
By my own hand,  the weirding index had chapters
Travel, Write, Laugh, Perform, Lift People Up, Tell Stories.
But today and most days
That book was too heavy to hold, because there are too many other books on top of it
Books labelled Anxiety, Procrastination, Guilt, Unreal Expectation, Perfectionism, Creative Distraction
And a battered, earmarked chapbook titled, ‘It’s really amazing how much wisdom resembles just being too damn tired’.
So I left my personal baggage library, sat outside in the sun, legs crossed, hands on knees, chin up. And tried to still the storms in my mind, ease the spiritual bruises and ache in my heart, step aside from the Dream, and let the tightness out

One breath at a time
And try to get some better sleep

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