Part I

So, I had this dream about a month ago and I thought it was the strangest thing. I decided to write about to see if I can uncover its meaning a bit deeper.


In the world of reality, I lay

exhausted, drowsy, and content.

My cohort beckons me to allow it

to devise a plot of discourse and mystery

and have it accompany me

upon my return to tell the world.

With my consent, it lulls me into

the land of the timeless girl.


My eyes open, seemingly awake

as I question my cohort’s intentions.

Why is it he leave me to his tinkerings,

at the mercy of whatever he pleases

to plague and destroy me?

Why is it that I allow him now

an extra hour to pick at me,

when he can flip me to insanity at his bidding?


Leaving all destructive unknowns behind

I stood in a yard of green so kind,

my eyes would fetter to its hue.

A symbol of this world anew.

It took one raise of the eye to see

a family standing under a tree

to tell me this world was one of woe

where flights of fancy could not grow.


A family’s toil seen in cries

as a member of kinship shall not arrive.

The elder of this saddened company

leaves no trace, but gravestones accompany.

Her picture resting under the tree

will revert to dust in a matter of weeks.

They stood there all with timeless tears

to the frame of pain their eyes adhere.


The youngest of sorrow turned to me,

her eyes the darkest like the pain of she.

She lit them up, two lanterns

that summoned joyous phantoms

to protect her from misery.

No longer was she dreary

and miserable.  Rather, she became

the essence of happiness whom reclaimed.


The girl of fate swapped to a grin.

It appeared my presence forced anguish resign.

She spoke my name like she knew it for years.

Another confusion, like why am I here?

"Eric," she called me, and baffled I was

I refused to question the history of us.

Her black hair blew in the wind so subtle,

Stopped in my tracks, I lacked a rebuttal.


Into the darkness I saw in her eyes

A facade to her innocence, a curtain of lies.

She pushed towards me, and in her embrace,

Was the hearth of Hera, warm honeydew lace.

“I need you,” she beckoned, and pulled me over

and through this depressed field of clovers

took me to the other side,

a side where nothing I’ve known will reside.


The End

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