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COFFINS

Dreamed 1983/11/5 by 'Beryl' and Wayan (parallel dreams)

1: WAYAN'S DREAM

Jennifer lost that bet with her best
Friend, who sighs "You're dead
And can't sign checks, so why
Not pay off our wager, Jen, by
Haunting our co-op Victorian
Amusingly?"

The deal works out quite well: the ghost
girl's a star. You've seen her show
"Jennifer Slept Here." Ho ho
Eternally.

I wake in a nonprofit. A girl like Jen
Lounges nude on the old couch. (Why, anyone
Can ogle in, so I close the Venetian blinds.)
"Couldja open the blinds?" she whines. Hung
Over? I bare the glare of eyes and sun.
She grinds "Couldja close those blinds?"
The blinds groan too. I suppress my own
Moan. Sexiest of grouches, she squirms
Unpleasably.

Wake again! I clean backstage at Psychodrama--worn
Pillows, limp swords, old monsters. Corroded throne.
Bald Tom, drape-propped. A spare Tom. Three, four!
Were he a puppetry all along? His ex-lover Beryl & I
Argue where to stash the glut of zombish Toms...
Drearily.

A truck arrives. "Delivery!" So I sign. (No more
Toms, hopefully.) Grandma's effects! Hand-
lace in damp leaf mold. Left, it'll rot for sure.
Pull and clean it dutifully. Below, howling yellow
Blanket. Deft, I peel banana weft. Hello
Grandma, dead beneath. A mobile grave!
My dad glums in, and coffinloots to save
Mute carving of a monkey that she made.
Luckily,

Serene dream-coda! Wake again, to hike
The silver woods; serendipitously meet
A lovely lynx. So calm. Delight.
Tufted ears just like the horns
Of excellent owl. Her felicitous
Sweet face, not ghouly moans
Concludes tonight's dream-
Family.

Please come and dream again...
As if evade you ever can!
Admittedly a rather ominous
Homily.

NOTES IN THE MORNING

Later that day, Beryl visits and tells a dream, unexpectedly.

2: BERYL'S DREAM

I cleaned Prometheus Theater. As I
reached the prop room, a gypsy sol-
idified centerstage. The Spirit of Psy-
chodrama! A wisdom-figure pendant she wore:
Centaur.

Reindeer folk browse the rug. A friend urged "Go
greet them!" I tried, but the tundra-carpet stage
turned kitchen. Vic, the director, stared at a coffin.
No corpse; a manhole, open. A ladder led on
Down.

Below, mystery: vast deep-green hall. No reve-
lations. So I started back, but Bag Lady, my
constant dreamguide, warned "Careful! Don't
go up there!" Up's now an empty school. I
climbed defiantly back toward light: a
Titanic

image of Vic and his lover, kissing. At
the laddercrown I saw: "I'm the Bag
Lady now." Awkwardly I huffpuff in
to their lovescene. Vibe unwelcome,
but still, Vic unwelled me from
coffin. Pulled from
Coffin.

THIRTY YEARS LATER

LISTS AND LINKS: ghosts - TV - nudity - frustration - psychodrama & theatre in general - living dolls - breakups - big cats - more dreams of Beryl - caves & the underworld - initiation(s) - animas & dream-guides - death - climbing - rescue, even if temporary - telepathy, premonitions & ESP in general - dream-poems - John Hollander's poem on parallel dreams: The Train

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