The 100 year dream by Ms. Kriss
Those moments of lightly tumbling
in the darkness of my room, after
reading a page or a chapter given to me
from someone else's thoughts, those moments
after the light is out and I have reached
for the cat to soothingly connect her
dreamworld with my own coming from
that mysterious place where dreams hide,
those moments so precious to be in living
human form that slides between realms— when
I wonder if I will be warm, too warm during
the night, or dead, too dead to know when
morning comes, —when the difference between
life and death is muted by the consolation
of my comforter, the utter silence outside,
the softness of Willow's fur against my skin, —
when my breathing no longer belongs to me
and I no longer create or direct my thoughts,
—when images come that delight me and
almost take me into their stories, but are
sent away by frightful horrors and I know I
can obliterate them if only I will, and I watch
from somewhere now far away as a warrior
emerges, —when the warrior now has power
over those moments, determining swift victory,
then deep sleep, or entry into a nightmare world
or, worse, re-entry into the cycle of
those moments . . .
Happy New Year, everyone! May 2014 give you many marvelous moments Awake! and may your dreams come true for you this year.
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