THE DEFEATED DREAM (photomorph) & WISHING I COULD THROW IN THE TOWEL (narrative on a nightmare) by Roswila

WISHING I COULD THROW IN THE TOWEL

…how will I ever get rid of this huge, clingy towel-scarf?
not only is it massively strong, it’s sentient, doing
it’s damnedest to smother/strangle the (so-called)
life right out of me (it flashes briefly through my
horrified mind that it’s rather odd I’m scared s—t
and fighting so incredibly hard, as you’d think
at this point I’d welcome an end to it all) …

… and where the hell am I, anyway? what bedroom is
this and what bed am I lying in? nothing at all about
this space, not one whit of its physicality or its
ambience, feels safe and secure; I recognize it
all yet can’t really place it, though that bookcase
over there to my left is definitely mine …

… oh, no, a house pet is coming up behind me as I lie
here on my left side; I can’t tell if it’s a cat or dog
(I’d much prefer a cat, of course, if there has to be a
pet here at all), ack! it’s slobber-licking at my
shoulder and neck, and that obvious, out of control
action means it’s a dog, yes, it surely is and it’s a
Jack Russell terrier at that -- that breed name is my
father’s stage name!* -- slobbering all over me, well
at least that heinous towel-scarf’s gone, though
this may be quite a nightmare trade-off given my
history with biting and unfriendly dogs …

… yikes! what’s that growling? it’s not the dog, it’s
human, a human male, shadowy and bulky, hulking
in the dark where the dog came from behind my back!
how’d he get in? (and as to where I am, I still don’t
know for sure what bedroom I’m in though it’s
looking more and more familiar, if no more safe
or welcoming); I both want a good look at
the threatening man, as he hulk-hovers there
(I still can only describe the sound he’s making as
growling) and do not want to see him –
he’s scaring the bejesus out of me …

…oy! I wake myself up,** my stomach knotting,
afraid to breathe, fearful of moving and attracting
more anxiety-causing unknowns and, even more
so, that I’ll fall back to sleep and continue to
tangle with image after nightmare image …


[narrative on a dream of 8-17-19. *My father's stage name was actually Jack Russell. **As I’ve said here before about my rare nightmares, I do almost always consciously – within the dream – wake myself up to get away from it. BTW, I'm not at all sure of the source(s) -- much less meaning(s) -- of this group of images. My guess would be a combination of factors: I’m eating differently, the full moon was just starting to wane, I’ve had some major changes in relationships, my emotional world’s been more out of denial than ever in my entire life (i.e., I’m feeling things more directly and deeply, both past and present), as I more thoroughly question my understandings and actions, and so on. Photomorph “The Dream Defeated” (Archival/PICT1613[3]) by Roswila]

PLEASE NOTE: in most browsers you can click on the above image for a larger version. Also, the photo accompanying a post is not necessarily meant to illustrate it, but to reflect some small, even slant aspect of the verse, similar to Japanese haiga (illustrated haiku).

There are many other sorts of posts on this blog. I indicate which are about or influenced by dreams. Some non dream focused posts are book reviews, "regular" poems (some by other writers), scifaiku, writing exercises, Tarot haiku, photos, haiga, and so on. However, most of those are in much older posts. There's a listing by month going back to early 2006, at the end of the sidebar.

* * * *

until next time, keep dreaming,





[a/k/a 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”). Roswila's other blog (dedicated to her photos only, i.e. no poetry or other writing; daily post); TRYING TO HOLD A BOX OF LIGHT.