The depth of mind.
Dreams are what existence would see if she looked in a mirror. They are an ever changing image representing the irrationality in life and how spontaneous it will continue to be as long as it persists. Dreams are a reminder of our mortality in their persistence to be forgotten, and a chance for us to reconcile with the fact that reality will never be more permanent than it's counterpart. Dreams are grounded in the real world just enough to give us hope that one day they may come true. Or in the case of nightmares, real enough for us to fear that they will. Dreaming is what happens when your subconscious gets to play with the controls, and dreams reveal many truths about yourself that you may try to hide. They are a way to look deeper inside and understand the motivations behind the actions of oneself and the actions of others. It is simultaneously a glimpse into utopia and into the darkest pits of hell. No one person is exempt from the catastrophic indignity that is life and no ones character survives that trauma without blemishes. Dreams show your inner most scars and reveal the ways you wish to heal them. They portray a true, broken past and an idea of the future that is as hopeful and optimistic as it is arguably unattainable.
For My Daughter
Ah, my little one, you ask big questions
Dreams are a tricky business at best
Real and unreal at the same time
It's hard for even the scientist to describe, for how do you measure an unreal reality?
I don't won't to confuse you, my tiny heart
Remember when that fever grabbed a hold on you? You shivered and shook all night as I held cool wet towels to your head and you said you felt like you were sleeping on top of a picket fence? And when those endless hours passed and the fever broke you crawled onto my chest and slept in peace. You woke and asked what happened? Then you said, I was there with you dad. It seems so faraway now.
That, my heart, is what dreams are like. They're awful, confused jumbles, of life. And the best part is when you wake from them to another day.
What Dreams May Come
That rhythmic series of thoughts, images & sounds, of how it creates a release from reality - such reverie to be found. Time is limitless as we enter another realm; a notable vision to behold for what will take place could be an epic story, a fairytale or a nightmare that unfolds. Unconsciously we move through the utopian sight, or are sometimes seen in a nightmare to run between fight or flight. No control to know what it will do, can we even remember it; whether it will infuse a sight of beauty & state of calm, or bring fear & night terror & make you feel there could be danger & harm.
I say, let you always be a Dreamer, for those who dream do create & can bring to fruition a new belief. They are life's imagination philosophers: for they rise above social conventions and challenge the status quo. For to have a dream, makes you a pioneer, someone who discovers the unknown. It shows how you are passionately curious in your well ordered mind. Hold onto your cherished aspiration, let it remain your ideal, connect it to your place of presence, make it feel real.
Dream. A part in us that makes imagination seem our innate ability. A part that has always driven the mankind confused. The only reality that human brain still registers as an unfathomable virtuality.
One day you are at the bay, building sand castle with your kids and the second day, someone is trying to kill you. Living admist the different scenarios of our cranial sphere slowly teaches us the miracles of life.
But that is not all. It is a wonder how these few seconds of unplanned imaginations leave an impact that ironically plans our entire day. Making us ponder over it, sometimes for hours, days and months. It is like taking a dip in an ocean that suddenly seems not to be built by us. A dip that sometimes drowns us and sometimes nourishes our soul. Like watching a movie being filmed.
At some nights they become a nightmare, nightmares that burden your chest and make you cry. Other nights they make you blush in a way your day self wouldn't have witnessed.
A beautiful way our soul uses to communicate with us and tell us its stories.
Such is the story my dear friend. The tale of a storyteller we find difficult to write. But you can smile, for every night I will tell you a story that is no less than a dream.
I dare you to analyze this one
Dreams are bizarre even on the off chance they make sense. You can be standing in your house except it's not your house it's a beach house but that doesn't matter because you need to climb out the skylight to escape the sunscreen zombies anyway. And then the zombies get you and you're a zombie and then you're still running from the zombies because now you're the newscaster you saw earlier. Then you can't think of anything to say in the argument you were having with the president about where to take the submarine since no one else thinks they need to run. And THEN you lurch out of bed because sleep paralysis just wore off and you're trying to flying kick a zombie in the face. That's of course if you don't wake up gasping for breath because you were just drowning in the chocolate pudding ocean.
What, you thought those were dreams I actually had? Mine are even stranger.
Your eyes fell out
to the sound of
lost in a pot of tea
beside the flickering dots
with worry -
dance of the ants.
the roaring fridge,
a light burns out
so you can hear
of yesterday's mind.
All along a fly awaits
as you masturbate whale sounds
onto a plate.
The taste lingers
on my tongue
as I awaken to the dream
that you are.