Wacky dreams are the norm for me. If it's not wacky, then I don't dream. This is why I like sleeping so much - the stories there are so much better. I've thought about starting a dream diary, but that's just too obsessive and time-consuming for my taste. Despite the degree of weirdness of the dreams, I try not to analyze them. It's a losing battle because each time I do that, I hear Freud telling me I'm a horrible person. And he's been dead for like, what, a hundred years? That creeps me out.
Hiawatha (Later Rio)
last night I had a dream about the child I lost
a hundred times within a single sleep
and his name is Hiawatha
I saw his soft arms
and somewhere in between the cracks
of waking and slipping back, his fingers
met mine and I held them
a thought remained when I woke
how love slips easy
I was shown his room
and a framed picture he treasure
Oh, my God
the soundless recognition of him
rang through me as I perched,
awaiting a sign that it was real
but none came
it was a strange dream
and no,
I didn’t see him anymore
