For the With Real Toads challenge, Mary’s Mixed Bag about dreams and night mares. Three poems. Enjoy!
Part I – Spooky
Hiding under broad green leaves, she dreams.
Facing the bird feeder, her green eyes are shut.
She dreams of catching a bird, a juicy bird.
But she’s full, fat and happy- the birds are safe.
Part II – Anna
Muzzle twitches, feet dash and dart.
Eyes rolled back, seeing only her dream.
She whimpers and snarls. Flinches.
I smile watching her running her dreams.
Part III – Me
They say (who is this THEY anyway?) you never land
you never hit the ground if you fall in a dream.
If you do, they say, you are going to die.
I hit the ground all the time. Phbat.
It catches me, oft hard some soft.
They say dreams can’t hurt you.
Some dreams are risky tho’
what if they can hurt?
They say (those THEY people don’t know JACK) remembering is false.
Everyone dreams in muted tones or black and white, so THEY say.
My dreams are in color, they smell and they touch me back.
I’ve woken, like Alice shaking rabbit fur, tasting cold tea.
Dancing with the bloodthirsty queen and dunce cards.
My dreams color my waking hours, bright or grey.
They are a living place, vibrant and alive.
Sometimes they carry on, my dreams,
without me being there and then
I have to sleep hard and fast
to just catch up to them.
They say (THEY ought to be quiet, you know?) that no one remembers dreams.
I remember them. A video, a film and a stack of polaroids – messy. Wild.
They say our dreams are the workings of our mind alone,
they should come and visit mine for a night or two.
Then they would realize that dreams are alive!
They are a living world, a place that goes on.
Maybe, just maybe, we are not the ones
who are having the dreams at all
maybe we are the dream.
Then who is the