“I can’t believe you’re back,” he whispered as he approached me.

“Well, my dreams tend to be recurring,” I replied, “although not usually immediately.” He took my hand and we started walking. I continued, “The only dream I remember revisiting night after night for weeks on end was a nightmare. I woke up every morning at precisely 4:26 after being frightened by a vampire in the dream. He would make fun of my making crucifix signs at him with my fingers.” I laughed. “I was kind of stupid afraid of vampires, at the time.”

“No longer?” he asked stroking my finger with his as we walked.

“Fortunately, that irrational fear has not been tested asleep or awake, so, I’m good…I guess,” I said.

He turned his head to look at me and smiled, “Don’t worry, I am not a vampire.”

I laughed, “But would you tell me if you were? And really, I’m dreaming, does it matter?”

He slowed and stopped. Taking my shoulders in his hands he said, “Are you so certain that you are dreaming?”

“Well, I remember going to bed last night, and the one before. I dreamed I was here with you, but I woke up in my bed in my home, where I’ve lived all my adult life.”

“But if this is merely a dream, how is that we are here together? How is it that I remembered you – looked for you, waited for you, and here you are? I don’t believe that I am an illusion. I believe that I exist. I am. Just as you are. Not to frighten you, but I believe we are here in this world that is not your world, perhaps, but it is ours.”

He pulled me into his arms. It was dark around us. We were in the same room where we had been the night before. Cloaked in shadows, I could see the overstuffed chairs, the wardrobe, a canopied bed. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on his chest. I listened for his heartbeat.

When I had awakened this morning, alone in my own bed at home, I had told myself to do that – listen for his heartbeat – in order to prove to myself that it was a dream; a delusion produced by an overactive, lonely and slightly melancholy brain.

This is just I dream, I said to myself. Prove it, an inner voice replied. He can’t have a heartbeat if it’s just a dream. Right?

His warmth encircled me. I could feel the slow thump of his heart against my cheek. My own began to pound.

“I can hear your heart beat,” I whispered.

“I can feel yours,” he said as he lowered his lips to mine.

I don’t want to wake up, I thought, just before I did.

It's hard to pick one wackest dream.

In one, I watch a play with floating paper fish, but the fish are pizza and we eat them.

In another, a panther bursts from a bread bag.

I hide inside a large decretive clam shell.

A man named Bane is not god enough to live in the town of light, but too good to live in the town of dark.

Once, I had a dream where I was just walking along, and suddenly the street and sidewalk was propped up on sticks. I was really freaked out, and I kept stumbling around, untill I fell onto a very realistic chalk painting of one of my peers. Then my family was rushing at me and telling me about how we need to pack before the Master got to where we were. I then saw this ginormous T-rex in the distance, and I was like “Is that him?” And everyone was like “No, that’s his spy,” and “He’ll know what we’re doing!”

That’s all I can remember. The only reason I remember it at all is because I was reading my old diary and I found an entry about this dream in it.

last night

i met a very old version of me.

nervously chewing off each finger

hovering near bedside,

naked, covered in soil

and worms.

watching my young self sleep,

i tuck a damp strand tenderly

behind a new ear

with bloody stumps.

dead leaves fall upward

as i spit knuckles into the carpet

and an old friend

stands in the closet nearby,

pointing toward me

in a fit of smiling hysteria

quickly opening and

slamming shut the door

on her own wrist.

i stare very hard at my sleeping chest

rise and fall

then behind my slouched skeleton,

somewhere between the laughter,

her voice sang in the key of Tinnitus

“you’re supposed to be dead”

then i french kissed my self

goodbye

and woke with salty tears

pooling my tongue.

I’m upright,

falling backwards,

through the air.

Upside down spinning,

like I'm literally falling of the face of the earth.

I see the green replace the blue

with a sparcing of pink flowers surrounding.

I’m raining.

I am not a person.

Not a thing.

I am everything.

I am nothing.

I feel it all,

all the moments of the world,

crashing together,

to create me.

I’m being birthed,

and dying,

all at the same time.

Its overwhelmingly beautiful.

So full of sorrow,

but so full of hope.

My external being is no more.

I am life,

I am death,

I am nothing,

but everything,

for what feels like an eternity.

I fall,

until I splat,

and hit the ground.

my atoms lifting up

and joining together,

creating my body,

merging with my mind as one.

I am here now.

Grounded

and ready to live.

Born again in this beautiful meadow.

Blossoming into the person,

I know I can be.

Who I am.

Who I want to be.

When I’m Dreaming,

of the feeling,

I used to have,

It’s coming back,

Careless, carefree,

Becoming me!

Ceiling. No noise. My bedroom, but what’s different?

How long have I been asleep? Let me get up. The apartment looks odd. Nothing’s changed. Everything is in its place, but…

The atmosphere, that’s it! Everything around me is so still. No traffic noise, no animal sounds. It’s as if I am the only person left alive.

My eyes keep traveling to the kitchen. I’ll have to walk through the livingroom to get there. This is so eerie. I can’t hear my own footsteps.

Okay, I’m in the kitchen. Now the pull is towards the front door. Something, someone? Why? What am I going to find on the other side?

My heart is filling with fear as I touch the doorknob. I’m overwhelmed with curiosity. Is it my instinct that screams go back to bed?

From over my shoulder I can see someone in my bed. Did someone sneak inside? The door is locked. How did this person get in?

I need to know. The other side can wait. Who is this intruder? Yes, get angry. Let it fuel you so that you can defend yourself. Pick up the hammer, quietly, and still no sound. I can’t afford to be distracted by my hearing loss. Get to the bedroom!

No. What is this? How can that be me? I’m me! What is this?

Wake him. NO! Instinct won’t allow. No coming back from the waking.

Tears. Am I dead? The tears are warm against my face.

He, I look at peace. I don’t want to die. Please, let me just lie here. If I just lay on top of me, maybe we can come together.

It’s working! My right foot sank into his/my other right foot. They fit together perfectly. This feels natural, like it was meant to be.

Let me climb into the bed. Fit my other foot. Yes! Much easier that time.

I’ll sit slowly. Gently enter into the torso. I can feel the heartbeat. It’s faint, but both my hearts are synchronizing. Deep breath. I heard that! Lie back completely. Let your head meld with the other.

Ceiling. Traffic noise. Nighttime bird sounds. I hear my breath.

What would I have seen on the other side of the door?

Once, in a dream, I was a young man in ancient China.

The walls were covered with Chinese paintings and a stunning young woman stood near in a light pink ancient Chinese dress. We spoke without sound and understood, though I’m not sure what I understood. I said something––something about a trick I’d been working on. As if from a distance, I watched myself pull out a sword and plunge it into my throat. Suddenly, I was the young woman. I didn’t feel anything for the body bleeding out on the ground before me. The blood stained the floor.

I took a step back to avoid tainting the fabric of my skirt.

I am not a murderer

I am not a brutal person

but...

today I want to destroy something brutally

I have only this desire in my mind

that's my dirty dream

killing, killing, killing !!!

at this moment ...

***************************

Good bye my lust...

Dad, he had contracted a disease as a child due to the lack of love he received. Real down about it, he evolved into a poor me. I’ve had it. I run up to him, looked him dead in the left eye, real deep into the void of the pupil.

You’ve got to love your fucking self

You’ve got to love your fucking self!

Over and over again

It struck a chord. I felt it doing something.

Something in him changed, not in the way I had anticipated.

You’re a maniac! He says.

I was backing away, shocked at this response.

My backing up let to my pet dog.

What are you going to do to Lincoln? Stay away from him! He says with all his might.

I’m nervous as hell, so I run to my room and gather my things. I’m out the door with tears coming out of me like a storm.

My Dad and I never got along. He’s always scared me, bothered me, annoyed me, judged me, manipulated me, insulted me, but I know he’s always loved me. Still I can’t trust him, and for that I can’t trust anybody.