dreams

The mosquitoes didn't bite me, the toads and the crickets lulled me to sleep.

That's where I unlocked the portal of dreams. Sitting there closing my eyes I could get there so easily just like when I met the shaman in peru. Except I wasn't in peru, i was in Manitoba. And I wasn't with a shaman, I was all by myself.

I dreamed past dreams, future dreams, and dreams that I have never had and will never have. That much I know. I dreamed horrible bloody nightmares and beautiful multicolor visions. I dreamed bittersweet prophecies. I dreamed ominous nature and humble humanity. I dreamed all possible selves. I saw it with my own eyes only I felt no difference from them being open or closed.

I can go back there sometimes. I wasn't able to get there before.

But the question remains. Is it all stored in some physical location? Like some tucked away part of the brain that fires like crazy when you get really hungry or horny. or angry or happy. is it all in the same place?

How did it get unlocked? Is it a dangerous place wherein you need a more experienced guardian to protect you?

Or do you only have to protect yourself from yourself.

A gift to me

So many gifts to bestow unto me

They're all hidden
under a secret tree

Never uncovered
until the next time
my true love
sends a gift to me

Until the next time
my true love
sends a gift to me

will it be silver
or gold

will it be diamonds
or coals

Oh what will my love send to me?

will it be rubies
or dust

will it be copper
or rust

Oh what will my love send to me?

will it be crystals
or plums

Will it be secrets
or drums

Oh what will my true love send to me?

Will it be ergot
or lyme

Will it be ribbons
or thyme

Oh what will my true love send to me?

Will it be able
or kind

Will it be whiskey
or wine

Will it be petals
or brine

Will it be woolen
or twine

Oh what will my true love send to me?

Bruised Palms

The stars were muffled that night. I was drenched in rainwater. I wasn't trying to prove anything I swear, but everytime I felt absolutely complete and realized, in retrospect, I was behaving exactly like a five year old.

I stole a tambourine, with its owner right beside me, not minding. In my detached state, i only vaguely realized that all the people involved in the rhythm were ten years my junior. No big deal. But I find as I get older I have to accept social realities that are different from my own, or at least ignore them. It wasn't about socializing that night.

When I woke up the next day my palms were bruised. A bruise had never felt so good.