A Dream


I dreamed of
but wait, no one cares
about another’s dream
and the dead no longer dream
or do they
one day we’ll know

but back to my dream
that no one cares to hear
until their own dreams
materialize into conquered love

I’ll tell you anyway
you are free to listen, or not
I dreamed of a future,
impossible world
where women are not
shot up with heroin
between their toes while tied
to a bed, naked, the hulking
weight of a man with a wife
and two children, their photos
he proudly displays to other men
at the bar
grunts above the bound woman
who begs to be rescued

he pulls up his camouflage
trousers, straps on his rifle
there’s a war out there
someone’s got to fight it
he doesn’t look back at the girl
on the bed
she watches him leave
will forever remember his face
and all the others, etched, itched

I dreamed this girl travelled back
in time when she had nothing 
to remember
nothing to forget

For Open Link with the Real Toads…. 

This was inspired, if that is the word, by a book I read recently that I cannot get out of my mind: A Constellation of Vital Phenomena by Anthony Marra. The subject is brutal, but the language poetic. I highly recommend it. Hope is layered throughout.


9 thoughts on “A Dream

  1. This is almost dazzling with its simple beauty, and then you slip in the knife, or perhaps the club–and all the ways we brutalize and diminish each other, unfortunately not merely in dreams–all too lifelike, all too real here. A fine, strong piece, with a solid left-hook at the end.

  2. How people’s anguish stays in the consciousness, sometimes long after the events, to be picked up by sensitive souls like you in dreams. I went through a period of life receiving these dreams, some of them confirmed by reported events.


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