Tag: dreaming

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I have a world to share

Just beyond the two fat friendly hounds bathing in the sun,
Within a green wall of trees at the edge of the garden,
A small wooden doorway stands, but access is a privilege,
It is only for those who use their imagination, a place for dreamers,
Beyond the door is another world, one colourful and beautiful,
Where violet waterfalls tumble into serene lily covered ponds,
Above, a peppermint-coloured sky plays host to brilliant sunshine,
Under which colourful flowers, trees, and shrubs bask and thrive,
Large red and white butterflies work, gently bobbing and fluttering,
Busy blue cranes seek brightly coloured fish from river shallows,
In the warm forest shadows nearby, giant orange mushrooms bloom,
And pink songbirds sing full throated, into the sweet floral breeze,
Distant blue mountains with snow-capped peaks rise and fall,
And beyond, are the crystal-clear calm waters of the dream sea,
All the magic and splendour of imagination awaits you,
So take my hand little one, and walk with me awhile.

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Xylophilous Dreamer

The early morning mist dances in swirls,
As a weary dreamer’s legs cross a cold open field,
The dead grey grass beneath the white blanket is sodden,
The landscape is flat, barren and desolate,
The grey cloudy sky seamlessly melts into the ground,
Whispers on the cold gentle breeze meet curious ears,
In the distance, the black skeleton of a lone dead tree calls,
Its contrast pierces the grey landscape, like a thorn in the skin,
Its obtrusive appearance is the only visible feature,
Each gnarled branch features a wide staring eye,
All of which slowly turn to focus on the approaching walker,
A thick twisted black trunk boasts a large gaping mouth,
As though silently screaming, through jutting rotted teeth,
A long black tongue slowly unfurls upon the surrounding mud,
Inviting the walker to enter the exposed mouth hollow,
Gelatinous grey liquid squishes beneath bare feet,
Each step towards the opening, sees the tongue rise,
Lapping at the walkers back, encouraging them forward,
Once inside the cavity, the mouth snaps shut, sealing them in dim light,
The dreamer begins to descend, sliding down a dark wet throat,
Tree roots and mud line the dripping filthy tunnel,
The speed of descent increases before the tunnel drops away,
As they freefall into a black abyss, their fearful screams echo,
Before they wake in their bed, sudden and confused, heart beating,
With the smell of putrid burning wood filling their nostrils.

Xylophilous (pronounced zy-LOF-uh-luhs) an adjective meaning, growing or living in or on wood. The term is commonly used to describe fungi, insects, and other organisms that are attracted to and thrive in wooden environments.
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Love Labours On

Last night my late grandfather came to me in a dream,
Dressed in the dust coat he wore when gardening,
After planting sunflowers, he was slightly out of breath,
I placed my hand on his chest, and I felt his heart beating,
He coughed, put his bucket down and said my name,
With tears in his eyes, he hugged me, I could smell him,
I could feel his cheek bristles against mine, it was so vivid,
He kissed my cheek and patted my back as he once did,
Repeating my name as the embrace ended, his voice changed,
His Lithuanian accent replaced by one more familiar, as I looked up,
My hand was now on the chest of my father, he was smiling,
With happy tears saying your mum called me, she’s coming today,
I don’t remember the last time I saw him this happy,
Certainly not in the last 31 years since she passed away,
He placed his hand on mine, and told me he loved me,
I awoke, with a tear in my eye and my hand on my chest, alone,
But there was no joy in the dark, only sadness, and mourning,
I placed my hand gently on my wife’s chest as she slept,
I could feel her heart beating, as she held my hand.

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Quietly walking the dreaming sands

The sweet floral scent of blue lotus flowers, rides the night breeze,
Warm golden sands, are a soft powder under bare feet,
They rise gently upwards becoming domed dune peaks,
Beyond which lays a velvety black and star-studded sky,
As a full moon slumbers, vivid, white, and luminous,
Beams shimmer across the sands like glittering diamonds,
There is a calming silence, it provides a sense of distance,
From the constant whispering call of the ocean of dreams,
This dreamscape is safe, here the sleeper can walk freely,
This realm is for the hurt, the weary, and the broken,
Its misty confines offer protection, a private place to heal,
So sleep now, and awaken healed, replenished, in the morning sun.

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Lost in the secrets of sleep

Stirring from sleep with a jolt,
The heart beating furiously,
The pulse pumping,
A gaze wide and confused,
Covered in cold sweat,
Things unseen move in shadow,
Inner depths cause silent screams,
No way out, there’s no way out,
Lost in dreams of death and black seas,
What secrets do closed eyes see,
More, than woken minds conceive.

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Into the black

And just like that,
I sink back into the black,
It envelops me,
Devoured by dark comfort,
I no longer resist the pull,
There’s no point in struggling,
It numbs all senses,
It keeps open eyes closed,
It mutes all sound,
It guides me down,
Then holds me there,
Until I can no longer breathe,
And just like that,
It releases its chokehold.

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Sometimes I lose myself

Sometimes, I can lose myself for days,

Time passes quickly, like a rapid heartbeat,

When I find myself again, something is always different,

Following some initial confusion, where I don’t know where I’ve been,

I’m unsure just how long I have been the other me,

Which me was I? Was I kind or cruel, happy, sad, or withdrawn,

Sometimes I can lose myself for days,

And now, I no longer know which me is real.

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The Heir of Saturn

Swirling colours, vivid and blinding, pulsate, in a cellophane coloured a sky,

A great blue door is beset by godly hands, vibrating in the colourful scene,

The hands hold a staircase in place, locked in an alien landscape,

Above the door a mighty skull sits, adorned with a golden lock,

Within the keyhole spins a whirlpool of stars,

The sudden arrival of the inner self is a spectacle to behold,

The door swings open revealing the inner self, naked and skeletal,

It glows, beautiful and newborn, emitting a soft blue light from its glassy bones,

My mind is stalled at this point, lost within the colours, one for every hurt,

The spiralling sky becomes a bright portal, spinning, slow, warm and inviting,

The inner self leaves its essence, before fading into that spiralling light,

Shadows fill with starlight, as a swirling green nebula slowly erases the vision,

I awaken in sudden darkness, the stars have faded, and life is reality once more.

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Behind the Doors of Sleep

The full moon overhead gazes down like a great pale eye,

I lay, eyes open, wishing I was lost in the land of dreams,

Instead, I find myself trapped within an awakened mind,

Alone, and without comfort, I try to unlock the doors of sleep,

Every uneasy cough pushes me a step away from serenity,

The world is dark, still and warm outside my open window,

It is now 4am, the time for lucid dreaming has past,

The doorway to the world of dreams remains unreachable,

I adjust my position, bedsheets entangle my feet,

My neck aches, and my body groans with digestive intent,

As the great moon above casts its pale eye downward,

An aircraft laden with sleepers, cuts through the silent sky,

My mind only craves sleep, I can feel the doorway approaching,

I write to drift off, hoping that the doors of sleep will open soon,

My weary eyes are the keys that unlock the realm of dreams,

May the doors of sleep slam closed behind me,

So that I can awaken again in the light of the new morning sun.

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Ocean of Souls

The sound of ocean waves drives out the death-like silence,

Awakening, as the body sinks beneath the surface of the ocean of souls,

Screaming in silence, it is taken by the dark creatures it now belongs to,

A thousand Invisible arms, wrap, constrict and pull at their prey,

The lungs fill, the scream continues, subdued, and eyes sting in salty brine,

The sky is lit by a million stars that sparkle and dance upon the surface,

As the sea floor is reached, a cloud of black sand swirls and cloaks,

Still staring, still screaming silently, the final resting place has been procured.