DANCE OF MOURNING (photomorph) & BEARING UP (dream) by Roswila

BEARING UP

I’ve been permitted to, nay, required to observe
this legal proceeding; at first, I think that the
middle-aged, dark-haired man is being accused
of some transgression that is going to get him
disbarred; all the legal papers carry the symbol
of a bear and there’s a tremendous amount of jaw
boning and paper shuffling (and little reading),
with nothing being given any sort of justice:
the accused’s case does not seem to change or
clarify one whit; then the judge demands silence,
there are many more folk in the shadows than I’d
been aware of, no wonder all the fuss and crackling
tension as he holds up a bound sheaf of papers,
a thick legal writ he’s been paging through; it’s
very old, released in the 1950’s (dust and tiny bits
of crumbling paper flitter from it’s green-gold
cover as he lifts it up for viewing); it’s the record
and results of the determination of the accused’s
case, i.e., how he was declared guilty and disbarred
(ah! I realize, today is a re-trial); the judge then
firmly proclaims his decision, a reversal of that
ancient verdict: the no-longer accused can practice
his trade skill again; I see how relieved and grateful
the no-longer accused is, but think rather sardonically:
now all that’s left to be done is to reverse the life-long
chain of consequences he’s had to bear for that
totally wrong-minded verdict


[last dream of 8-28-19. This is the dream I mentioned in my comments to yesterday’s post. The second of two dreams that bookended the dreams of 8-28-19. There’s a pun in this one that may not come across. I only became aware of it myself when I wrote the last line. That “bear” image at the beginning, and that “bear”ing of a life-long burden referred to at the end. Put another way, I think that bear symbol at the start was a visual representation, a foreshadowing, if you will, of the weighty endurance referenced at the end. (In a humorous and all too real vein, I can hear the expression “cross as an old bear” in the dream’s beginning.) Additionally, in my comments to yesterday's post I mentioned how my father had secretly blamed my brother for our mother's early death. That must have been a terrible, unconscious burden that my brother bore all his life. I could go on endlessly here, but will let it rest. So much was stirred up by these two dreams, that I’ll be dealing with the fallout for some time to come. Photomorph “Dance of Mourning” (Archival Pix 6-12-09 2147v2[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.

THE PETITIONER (photo) & WHAT MATTERS INNOCENCE (a dream) by Roswila

WHAT MATTERS INNOCENCE

though I’m rather sure I’m not responsible for having killed
the woman, I rush around my dark, wood-paneled old
apartment in a high panic, trying to figure out where to hide
the body (at least for now) and how? (as is? swaddled somehow?
boxed?); I quickly decide on boxing up her stiffening body
and immediately get nauseous at an image in my mind of her
being cut into sections; hey, I’ll hide her to keep from being
charged with her murder but that’s as far as I’ll go; even though
I’m more and more certain I’m not responsible for her death,
I recognize that the situation casts me in the light of killer; ah!
perfect! a large empty carton! I wrestle the body (limbs are
amazingly stubborn and heavy when being forced from their
steadily stiffer positions) into the old shipping carton and shove
the now full box, inch by painful inch (I might as well be
entering rigor mortis myself, with all the loud arthritic popping
and cracking going on) to the bathroom, off of which are two
large, well-hidden storage closets, praying all the while there
will be enough room left in one of them among all the junk
I’ve shoved into them over the years (outta sight, outta mind,
you know); good, good, one thing may actually be going my
way, there’s room in the closet on the left side; I barely have
time to close the panel door and savor the relief with a big
sigh before I begin worrying again; I won’t be able to leave
her there long, odor will be a (pardon the morbid pun) dead
give away very soon; so, how can I permanently and safely
dispose of the body; images of it being hack-sawed rise again
and I instantly dismiss them, clamping down on the rising
nausea, while I think: an ocean dump? an earth burial? sigh,
they both require so much additional planning, not to
mention the physical labor for my own rapidly deteriorating
old body; maybe I’d actually do better to just out her
boxed body and take my chances with the law and courts,
after all (though it hasn’t mattered a hell of a lot in other
situations in my long life) I am innocent


[first of two dreams of 8-28-19. I will probably post the last dream of that evening tomorrow. It’s very clearly related to this one. An image in the last one goes back overtly to the 1950’s, which is when my mother died (I was 10). Over the years I wondered if my father had killed her, and also at times, myself, in some way. (And my father once admitted to me, when I was a middle-aged adult, that he felt awful for having secretly blamed my brother for her death. It’s an awfully sad comment on my relationship with my father, but that was the only truly deep and honest sharing we ever had.) I’m reminded of the Catholic concept of original sin here. There’s no escaping it. In any case, I haven’t wrestled this deeply with the issue of guilt/sin in a long time. Nor with being forgiven/forgiving (that comes up in the other dream I’ll post tomorrow.) Omigosh! I just associated trying to dispose of the dead woman, with a struggle I’m having trying to decide out how to rid myself of a Triple Goddess statue I have. Lotsa guilty feelings involved as it was given to me by a good friend, and it is of a Goddess. One I used to revere, back in the day when I was doing that sort of thing. But I no longer relate to it and it’s quite cumbersome (and I’ve always thought, an unfortunately poor rendering) and I don’t just want to store it on my already full shelves … etc., etc. This association is not to trivialize the dream. But to show a probable source in day memory of the image and feelings the dream uses and expands deeply upon. Photo “The Petitioner” (Archival Pix 6-11-09 2105e) 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.