ALL DAILY DREAMKU POSTED IN JUNE 2006

As I have said in previous posts about dream haiku, I am still working out the relationship for me between the haiku form and my dreams. My tendency still is to favor the dream, so I am aware many of these may give those knowledgeable about haiku heartburn. However, there is something to be said for experimentation, for stretching the limits of a form. And even as I do so, I work very hard to honor the haiku form -- a form I continue to learn about, by the way. Given all this, my dream haiku notebook looks like a much-edited inter-state highway roadmap! (What the dream needs to be saying comes through very readily; its getting it into "proper" haiku form that can take lots of thought.)

I should mention that these haiku were not necessarily written on the date they were posted, nor were their source dreams dreamt on that date. I choose a dream haiku to post on any given day by looking through my handwritten notebook and picking one that appeals to me for one reason or another. The dream haiku in this little notebook are based on dreams I had from yesterday all the way back to many years ago. I do have the month and year of the dream recorded with the haiku so I could sort all these dream haiku in date order of their source dream should I ever want to.

June 30, 2006

disabused
her hidden horse is not dead
only starved



June 29, 2006

the evil tree
can’t tolerate saliva
spit fire



June 28, 2006

he takes her toy
inchworm from her hand
disarming



June 27, 2006

the old horse
can only see to the side
circuitous path



June 26, 2006

double indemnity
dwelling on a simpler time
that never was



June 25, 2006

translucent white globes
ring the solar system’s edge
crowded offing



June 24, 2006

cool morning breeze:
dream clings of being
half man, half woman



June 23, 3006

strange bedfellows
the disaffected thieves
make love



June 22, 2006

she finds the hurt boy
beneath a sheltering tree
deep haven



June 21, 2006

she writes
the old URLs in script
living links



June 20, 2006

futile effort
she painstakingly staples
the trashed image



June 19, 2006

the villains
closet the full moon
lunatic fringe



June 18, 2006

she asks her father
to point out the bus stop
there’s no place like home



June 16, 2006

crowded subway train:
fear makes the tiger
aggressive



June 15, 2006

she does not want
to be like other women
sour grapes



June 14, 2006

the rope-like scar
down the middle of her breast
one twist too many



June 13, 2006

William Shatner
has had a sex change
she runs the show



June 12, 2006

women bend saplings
to fling themselves over
bridging the gap



June 11, 2006

a newborn kitten
nurses at her blouse button
blind faith



June 10, 2006

two Buddha statues
lie together broken
touching



June 9, 2006

George Harrison
sells cakes across the veil
soul food



June 8, 2006

the air at the edge
tugs as it rushes by
fear and elation



June 7, 2006

we urge the foal
to separate from Pegasus
a crucial grounding



June 6, 2006

the snakes’ bites
put her in an altered state
strangers ask questions



June 5, 2006

little footprints raise
on my friend’s pregnant belly
a new path



June 4, 2006

all she sings
are someone else’s songs
her spirit wilts



June 3, 2006

sheet after clear sheet
offers more clarity
on a roll



June 2, 2006

the plague survivors
fling windows open for air
starting yet again



June 1, 2006

Matthew asks questions
I wake
and he dies again

* * * *

P.S. of 1/8/07--I just noted there's no daily dream haiku for the 17th of June. I know I posted one, however, I obviously forgot to enter it in my word processing file from which I make the full month's post. There's no way I can figure out which one it was. Sigh.

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blog: ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL.

ON DRAGONS, WITH THREE DRAGON DREAMS

[image from dreamtime.com, by Bedo]

From the time I was a teenager I've always enjoyed sci-fi/fantasy stories, but at the time I moved into my current home 22 years ago, I found myself particularly fond of dragons. Not only did I read just about any dragon-themed book I could find, but I began collecting dragon figurines. There was a unapologetic and graceful power in their aspect that I could not resist.

I continued to collect dragons for several years. I had carved dragons, blown glass dragons, ceramic dragons, braided rope dragons, etc., etc. All were kept on a shelf near the front door of my apartment -- some "on wing" from the ceiling -- not far from my musical instrument collection. Yes, I'm a collector. I had over 100 Tarot decks at one time, too. I still have 70 decks and the collection is growing again since I've discovered free review copies! Blame this collecting mania on my Moon in Taurus. :-D

But things change. Both dragons and improvisational music groups waned from my life. And my approach to Tarot collecting redefined itself, as I realized I only wanted decks I liked, not those I thought I should have, or that were new or popular. During the garage sale in which I sold all but my most favorite dragons, musical instruments, and Tarot decks (all of which favorites I still have) I was told that my landlord family's last name, Leung, means "dragon"! Oh, my....

Of course, given all these dragons around me I also dreamed occasionally about them during those years. Here are the three that have survived.

[dream-based prose poem #1]

The god-like dragon creature manifests before me, purple with green highlights. He swirls around me, not quite flesh, not quite cotton-candy. I am angry with him. He has numbed my pain all my life. I tell him off, flinging my words like bricks into fog. He has no right to take my pain away. It is all I've had. He chortles deep in his throat, and releases his control of my hands. I am astounded as merciless pain burns them from palms to finger tips. I hold them before me like burning bushes. He tells me that the pain had been even worse in the past. I am humbled.

[I heard this dream say that there are healthy uses for denial that help us survive until we are capable of bearing what coming out of it will release. Especially in recent years as I've peeled back various layers of denial, I've seen how fortunate it was I listened to this dream at that time and allowed for the protection denial offered for a while longer as I grew stronger.]

* * * *

[partial dream recall]

I vaguely recall another dream in which an imprisoned dark green dragon reaches through his cage bars to put an aspirin on top of my head. I was probably getting one of those horrible frequent headaches I got in those days, and wishing I could unlock a magical power to heal myself...but willing to settle for an aspirin!

* * * *

[dream-based prose poem #2]

The moon rides over my shoulder like a guardian angel, as I climb down from the window sill of the room in which the dragon waits for me. He sits hunched over his desk, huge and a bit scary. I stride right up to him and realize he is really rather innocent and sweet. I also realize I am his mate. I pace back and forth in front of him showing off my long green tail and muscled haunches. My fine pointed teeth glint in the moon light as I grin fetchingly. It is clear that he finds me very attractive. We make delicious green dragon love.

[This dream puzzled and amused me at the time. I now see it has a "Beauty and the Beast" aspect to it.]

* * * *

I still have the occasional pull towards dragon figurines, greatly enjoy a good dragon story when I come across it, and especially delight in good dragon art --

Resource: Michael Whelan's Website, IMHO, one of the best sci-fi and fantasy artists around, especially his dragons.

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blog: ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL.

KNITTING: A DREAM INFLUENCED SHORT-SHORT STORY

[image from fotosearch.com]

This is a very old story, one that I vaguely remember had a dream image as part of its inspiration. The idea of knitting and unraveling, I believe. (I both crochet and knit at a basic level, though not much in recent years.) At the time I wrote this story I’d been doing a lot of writing in the first person, experimenting with different character voices.

I used to read "Knitting" at open poetry readings where it usually enjoyed a nice response. Which point reminds me of something I know about my writing: it comes across far better when I read it aloud, than if someone just reads it on the page. The obvious conclusion is that I imbue my work with something when reading aloud that is not readily accessible from the page. I accept this, though I do sometimes wonder if this reflects a weakness in my writing. Then again, maybe it just means I inherited some of my theater family’s performing genes after all! :-)

KNITTING

“Hi, Sue? It’s Mom. Yeah, I’m home and the trip was fine. Hardly any traffic on the freeway....Yes, yes, your Grandma’s fine....Honey, that’s why I’m calling. I told you the last time we saw Grandma that I knew, just plain knew she was there, behind all that silence? Well, the feeling was even stronger this time....Yes, the aides say she’s no better, no worse.

“Sue, I know you’re really busy with the kids and all; I can hear them. But honey, this is important. And I’m not just imagining things because I want Grandma to be better. I could feel her back there, behind those dark eyes; it’s like she never really went away.

“Well, let me tell you then. I was sitting next to her on the front porch of the home, rocking with her on the swing, my hand on her arm, you know how I love to touch her loose soft skin, and I get this picture in my mind, as clear as if it were a photograph hanging right there in the air. It was me and your Grandma at the beach when I was little. I was tired and cranky, and your Grandma was brushing the sand off my feet getting us ready to go home, and giving me little kisses when she could get past my wiggling.

“But the thing is, Sue, I felt like I was having Grandma’s memory, too! So I looked up real quick and Grandma didn’t look any different, just her usual vague stare. But I kept having memories, things I had plumb forgot or hadn’t thought about in years and years. And all of them like they were Grandma’s memories, too....Honey, I know, I know you think I just won’t accept that Grandma’s gone to us. But, Sue, come with me next time.

“You know, she was remembering Joe, too....Yes, she was, and I always told you she didn’t hate him. She just loved you so much anyone who wasn’t a fairy tale prince just wasn’t enough husband for you....OK, Sue, I won’t talk about Joe anymore.

“But there is one more thing. The last memory your Grandma and I shared was in our old front parlor, in that home on Eighth Street, when I was just a little kid. Well, your Grandma was knitting, making a great green sweater for your Grandpa and the whole back piece of it was just about done.

“Then she suddenly started to rip it out. I was so upset, it was so beautiful! I asked her why she was doing that. And she said because she had dropped a whole bunch of stitches way back at the beginning and had just noticed. For the life of me, Sue, back then I just couldn’t understand why a couple stitches could matter all that much. Especially since she’d gone on knitting for so long and didn’t even notice them. And she laughed and said that part of the sweater, and who knew, maybe even the whole thing would just fall apart if she didn’t get those lost stitches back to home.

“Honey, I’ll make my point and end this call: we got to share in Grandma’s remembering. It’s memory that holds the important stuff together....Yes, yes, you go to your kids. But please promise me you’ll think about coming with me next time? Please? We may not have much time and there are so many lost stitches.”

* * * *

Resource: Fiction Press, I’ve not ever actually posted my writing to a site such as this, but sites like these might be a way to share and get feedback. From their homepage: “FictionPress is a growing network of over 144,000 writers, hundreds of thousands of readers, and home to over 890,000 original works. As a writer, this is a place to showcase your creativity and for a reader, FictionPress is an opportunity to feast to your heart's content.“

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[aka: Patricia Kelly]
****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blog: ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL.