THE SCREAM
maybe it’s being at the far end of my life
and all too aware of endings (of those
people passing on around me in this
community of seniors) and of my own
impending one (no, that’s not an intuition,
just the reality, I am, after all three-quarters
of a century old), but I find myself wanting
to start the telling of dreams at their ends
these days, or maybe it’s I’m tired of
the journey and even less inclined to
recapitulate any part of it in words, and
just want to “get to the point already!”
honestly, though, this morning I’m most
likely avoiding dealing with last night’s
rather disturbing dream -- some would say
nightmare, and if it were not for that
vanity I have that I face what my dreams
say, no matter what, I’d probably be
inclined to agree with that assessment,
and further note that even here I’m putting
off starting on the dream story, so…
a somewhat younger woman friend
and I are in a small bedroom, sitting
on the bed and schmoozing when
a mutual male friend enters,
fulminating about something
we acknowledge his entrance and
make room for him by us on the bed;
my woman friend and I eye each
other in companionable awareness
of our friend’s not unusual ire
as soon as he sits, he jumps up,
and though it hadn’t seemed
possible he gets even angrier:
scary, crazy, furious; just as I’m
wondering if this time my woman
friend and I need to do more than be
quietly accepting, he dives head first
out the window, through glass
and frame, toward the concrete
driveway, two stories below
as the glass and frame shatter I
open my mouth in a scream
that goes on and on, the tension
in my neck and throat becoming
excruciatingly painful
I vaguely hear my woman friend
calling 911 as I continue to
scream, and just as I think
I will do so forever, I wake up
the calm with which I greet
the realization it had been
a dream is a little surprising,
as well as a relief, followed
immediately by a panicky wish:
may it not have been clairvoyant
[written on and in response to a dream of 2-5-19 (posted 2-6-19). Yesterday was horrendous so it’s understandable I’d have an intense dream. BTW, the screaming was totally realistic. I could hear it, and feel the stress and pain in my neck and throat. Also, the woman was no one I know in waking life, but the man I do. Additionally, there have been at least two suicides in our retirement community recently. (I say “at least” as I suspect an earlier death was also a suicide.) Photo "Don't Fade Away" (tthabol 11-15-13) 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.