I dreamt of my ex,
and my ex laughing.
I dreamt of horrors, each stacked upon the others,
like mating monsters.
I dreamt I was trying to deliver misshapen parcels
to tiny mailboxes
in a dark room,
And all the names were wrong, and of dead people,
interred inside the walls, throats filled with dust and plaster.
I dreamt of enormous violent insects
which ate each other's faces.
I dreamt they had zebra stripes and fish mouths, gaping.
I hit them in the eyes with a hammer
I dreamt that they wrought horrors too sickening to tell;
I dreamt that I failed to save my children.
I dreamt of my ex
and my ex laughing;
of exoskeletons and murder and shame.
I dreamt of these things over and over,
all in one night, like an exorcism.
I awoke, ill and afraid,
in a still, dark room that was orderly and quiet and untouched by these things,
Ten years removed from you, wrapped in my own life,
This has to be one of the most cathartic pieces I've ever read ...ReplyDelete
I could feel the horror of the dreams.ReplyDelete
At my critique group last night we talked about you. Did your ears burn? T'Mara Goodsell and I were raving about you, I was bragging about the poem you wrote for me (T'Mara was green with envy, because she had read the poem). I replied to your comment on my blog. I thought for sure the wild-haired woman (the first photo) was more your type than the last two ;)ReplyDelete
I hope you sent this poem to your ex--perhaps attached to a burning bag of excrement?
Was this written in celebration of an independence day anniversary?
What a yucky dream. Sounds like your postie nightmare is akin to the one I used to have about teaching -- I'd show up either naked or in pyjamas with no lesson plans, no clue about anything and couldn't remember any of the kids names.ReplyDelete
Sweet dreams tonight of lollipops and lattes!
Now I feel like things are crawling all over me *swats arm repeatedly* this is way on the creepy side, Shay, and it really does pinpoint that pandora's box of the past where the horrors come from even after we've long escaped. That middle stanza with the hammer, especially horrific, full of that nightmare fear where you pour yourself out violently against the dark. Sending you happy thoughts of large canisters of industrial strength RAID by the bed.ReplyDelete
I saw those rhinoceros beetles in nearly every pet store I went into while I was stationed in Japan. Those things are freaky...ReplyDelete
You are our Breughel-
Aloha from Honolulu
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breathe deep .. exhale .. I told you not to go see The Hunger Games aloneReplyDelete
As a dreamer of habitual horrors, I know this feeling all too well.ReplyDelete
You write with immediacy of the moments experienced on waking - real and gripping.
I hope I don't dream about that bug tonight!ReplyDelete
Isn't it wonderful to wake up and realize your nightmare of a former life is long gone? Great poem, FB.
It's hard to accept when one lived in darkness when that moment was to be full of sun.ReplyDelete
Hope you are now, ok.
This was cathartic
"Ten years removed from you, wrapped in my own life, still breathing." You KNOW how much I resonate with those words. Fantastic writing kiddo. Very scary dreams. But what a poem you wrought from them. Hope you have today off, to recover.ReplyDelete
The residue of some events is never completely washed away, no matter how long ago. Letting in the sun makes it fade, however. Some exes are monsters; some are dung beetles.ReplyDelete
Shay--Saturday Writers next writing contest category is "Poetry." You have no excuse. The cost is $7 per entry (maximum3) and if you decide to enter, you can attach a note saying, "Sioux will pay," and I will.ReplyDelete
Go to www.saturdaywriters.org
Also, Chicken Soup is looking for personal essays about writing. No excuses there, either.
Get those spirits working.
Whoa. What brought that on?ReplyDelete
good lord! don't eat whatever you ate ever again!ReplyDelete
Life can send nightmares when we are awake or asleep...there seems to be a sticky residue no matter how many years past the event...love this piece!ReplyDelete