Tag Archives: dreams

F the Fright

how many times

did i start over
think i’d landed
believe this was my grip –
my toehold –
i’d finally made it to
my life

just in the last seven years
just in the last city

of dreams
wrapped in a nightmare
i didn’t recognize
and muse:
who’s life am i living?
this unfamiliar
how did i get here
and how to get back

to the familiar strange:
i could make sense of …

(how many times)

how many chapters
did i
live through
how many lives
in this city and before
…and here i am again…

fresh at a start
trying to learn from
my heart
seeking to make real, this time
what before i couldn’t find
is this the one
the one where it starts –

how wary am i
so often fooled
like a noose it grips tight –
i beg to run forward,
on: fuck the fright


(this is for you- yes, you)

My body is separated
leaking into outer realms filled
with color
as I close my eyes and spin
watching my thoughts dance around me
I become one with my soul
and jump into their minds
I know who they are
and what they’re thinking
connected by forces beyond my control
and slowly, I go insane.

Crazy in everyone else’s head
I explore
in touch with my dreams, feeling
their power
I am watched by thousands
of faces
never lifting their eyes
and they know who I am
what I’m thinking
because into their world
I am falling.



You must see,
what you’ve found in me
i cannot explain,
we are from the past
waiting upon what is present
waiting for the future
that is now –
yet now we are here
and we are lost

You come from my past –
a recognized face
yet now our memories
have been erased
as i see you now
you are a new person –
as so am I –
yet our souls are connected, still;
and we are blinded
to images of our past
in a time so long ago –
we lived
and we met
and we danced in the moonlight –
falling into love, forbidden, showered
by silence
of the stars
and we kissed

and now
what you see in me
is a flicker from that past
hidden by layers of years
and new beginnings
though you still can’t see
what was held between you and me
what we shared, what we saw
what we felt…
why was I chosen
to remember, when you can’t

the Mandy Dream

Boxes of her childhood lay next to her in a line, neatly stuffed and organized to the max. She knelt on her knees next to each one as she went down the line and worked on securing the tops shut.

Her partner and family were nearby. They were frustrated she had taken so long. She seemed mightily unfazed by this though, and kept to her work as if it were a design, a pattern; she knew there was a method behind her madness, and all the timing would work out perfectly.

Her name was Mandy.

She was an artist, a writer too, struggling to find her way in the world. She loved her craft but too often became distracted and felt blindsided by the ways of this world. But here and now, this was the time – it finally seemed as though her culmination of efforts had achieved her a time – when it was all coming together. She focused on the task at hand and fastened her boxes, keeping her head down, but filled with pride and knowingness that this – was the time she’d been waiting for.

Later she lay on the floor face-to-face with her partner. They touched foreheads, curled toward each other. He seemed to be happy she knew him so well, and at once he asked her if she knew what he was thinking; she gave him the answer without being concerned with this psychic ability of hers, and without hesitation. His whole body filled with the sensation of thrill. She got up, and moved away to do something else.

She remembered a dream she’d had recently. She was standing in an open space somewhere, next to a fantastic, intriguing-looking house, which just so happened to be the brightest, most brilliant shade of turquoise she’d ever seen. The whole house. Turquoise. Next to her had been her Healer, a woman with short dark twists of hair and white clothing, an older woman with immense strength and calm, and so much history. They were both looking at the house from the outside when she’d turned to Regina and said, “I want to be a ghost writer.” At this point she’d woken herself up, barely, but enough to know what had just happened: she’d spoken what she wanted for herself for the first time, something she’d not even done in the waking world. She’d taken note, feeling excitement and fascination, then let herself descend back into dreamworld. As they stood facing each other in Mandy’s dream, outside next to the turquoise house, it was Mandy’s intention to convince Regina to let her story be told, and to let Mandy be the one to tell it. When she’d woken she’d thought about the turquoise again…. why was it so bright? And why that color?

Later her partner walked into the room and suddenly, she was terrified by his face. Had she mixed up realities? She wondered. Instead of himself, he looked like an older, disguised version of someone she used to know, an old partner. She was confused and didn’t trust this person in her present reality, and wondered if she was being fooled or taken advantage of. Had it been him the whole time? Had he been tricking her somehow? He saw the look on her face and tried to console her. It was difficult; she pushed him away and didn’t want to believe his words and couldn’t shake the similarities when she looked at his face.

“I’m not him,” he said. Gently but sternly trying to convince her. She was feeling betrayal, mixed with fear. Mandy wondered why she hadn’t seen it sooner. “I’m not him,” he said again.

Eventually, there was a second that broke through the fog and she realized he wasn’t lying. At once, she threw herself into his arms, apologetic and grateful, and he hugged her back. She cried the tears not only of relief for having her partner back, but also for knowing she’d just let go of the first person who’d ever terrified her: he had showed up in illusion form — dug out from a part of her that was deep and hidden — allowing her to finally fully expel him. He seemed a memory old as time, but, Mandy thought, if she was starting over she might as well start cleansing from the beginning. And so it all made sense. She held her lover, grateful she didn’t live in the past any more.

• • •

San Francisco

(or, Dilemna)

mindless, tired faces
too busy to notice
too burnt to care
pass with no eyes, no soul

this is the city
i could only dream as a child
to look out for –
to save myself from

now i wonder
how much to blend
how much to lend
my spirit –

how much is enough
to take before i leave
or to give
while i stay

and the trains blow by…

the music plays
chanting, on the edge of forever
spirits echo chasing dreams –
and i watch:


do i stay still? or run?