The Nature of a Dream

Follow your ignorance
To a garden of Life
Flowerbeds like graves
Where the sky mourns

Under the grapevines
Children run in freedom
Passing time so slow
Making wine for worms

In the endless orchards
A bees’ nest grows silent
The dances are done
The flowers are calling

At night, the stars sing
Ageless songs and symphonies
The nature of a dream
Which dies upon waking

by Josh Glasson

Advertisements

I Don’t Dream Anymore

I Don’t Dream Anymore

My wife complained
that I grind my teeth in my sleep
which I knew to be true
from my aching jaw every morning.
It’s not something I could control
but I was curious
to find the reason I did so
which must reside in my dreams
which I could never remember
because I slept so little.
So I started sleeping more.
And I started to remember,
Why I grind my teeth
and why I don’t want to dream.
The first night I remember
being in a forest.
The twilight peaked
just over the trees,
which were not sparse
but left plenty of room to walk.
So I did.
After a few hundred feet,
I paused,
Realizing I had not looked
at where I had come from.
I didn’t turn, thought I thought about it.
I just stopped for a moment, unmoving.
And that’s when I heard the hissing,
Like a cicada,
but louder, bigger
and right behind my head.
I shot straight up in bed,
but my wife didn’t stir.
I knew I had died from whatever it was,
and I could still hear the sound
while I lay awake in bed
for the rest of the night.

The second night I remember
being in a parking garage.
Walking up a ramp
lined by people in wheelchairs.
Halfway up,
I met a man with a doorway,
who looked like a guard,
or a valet,
I wasn’t sure which.
I gave him a quarter to let me in
and another to let me out.
He chuckled though,
when I gave him the second.
I reached the top
and sat at a table,
where a pleasant looking doctor
slit my wrists
over a Dixie cup
to get a ‘blood sample’.
I woke up shortly after,
casually and calmly,
briefly glancing at my wrists,
wondering if I woke up
because of that second quarter.

The third night I remember
nothing,
because I quit sleeping so much,
because I don’t want to remember.
Maybe I’ll forget my fears,
and try dreaming after a while,
but for now I’ll be content
waking with an aching jaw.