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dreamed 2008/8/31 by Wayan.
I dream I'm making long-range love:
thrust and rock a lonely pillow-sea,
trying to dart a sex-dream east to my
girl who's writing less to me;
letters wilt in drought.
I wake and start to write a bitter-
sweet dream-poem. Tap and ponder by
my dawn baywindow. Then out of my
pane, I spot a rocking man curled up
fetal in the street.
Road's a sudden curve. Cars can come
fast and blind; danger! Yet I pause
long pulses, hand over phone. The sun's
still waking my quiet street; perhaps
he'll uncurl, move on.
Eyes on my work. No motion, yet when
I look again, he's moved. Still curled,
but in the far lane now! I look
down and tend my dream. Again a flick!
Fetal on the walk.
Still I'm inexplicably tense. Think "See?
He's safe now, no need to call,
relax, relax"--but can't. No, he's
not in danger. He danger is.
Fetal on a sill
of the diner across the street. I stare,
forget my work, for my third eye howls
"Call 9-1-1 right now!" But what'll I tell
the cops? "A man's on a ledge three feet up!"
Some suicide call!
Fetal unfolds to join that diner line--
cheery omelet throng. Meekly waits a turn,
but then declines their famous eggs;
pulls and fires a gun. The dying barman sags.
Fetal turns away,
sidles through shock and is gone. Sirens mourn
as cops roar up, too late! They check
security tapes; I see the replay now.
Pointillist shots of his stringy bald pate:
Mustache sideburn face.
But his antique trim quite fails to hide
cheeks distinctive wide. O I'm
unneeded here. He'll be caught and jailed.
No, my job was earlier--and I failed.
What if I'd dialed as he curled?
Could I have dialed as he curled?
Why didn't I dial as he curled?
A NOTE YEARS LATER
- Fear I'm losing a girl I love: true. Emily Joy's slowly stopped answering emails.
- ACTION: Is the dream saying call her now and force things to a head? I'm afraid to push; hate it when it's done to ME. Yet in the dream, the slogan's proven true: silence = death.
- False wake into a second dream: a way my dreams flag themselves as having real-world import. The tone when I woke was ominous too; the dread didn't let up; I couldn't dismiss it as "only a dream."
- Curled up, fetal: today I saw Shakespeare's Pericles, Prince of Tyre. When Pericles thinks his family's dead, he curls up in mute grief. So beware depression! The dream warns it's deadly. Though not to myself alone--who's that barman-victim?
- Killer's odd face, sideburns: this Pericles was set in the Wild West; the men had beards, mustaches, sideburns.
- Gun, murder: there were two murder attempts in Pericles. In the play, both fail. But here...
- Trouble in diner across street: the cops did visit that house. A troubled family; drug deals. But they moved out and the new tenants are nice.
- ACTION: watch out for this guy. If I meet him, be ready to duck--or to jump him.
Almost exactly one year after this, I had a second nightmare of a corner cafe and a senseless shooting, A Date In Minsk. The same time next year I had a third similar nightmare, Monkey with a Gun! The next evening, I was upstairs near a corner window in a club full of singer-songwriters, when gunshots and sirens drowned out the performers. A guy had pulled out a gun, fired at an enemy, and killed a bystander instead.
By chance--let's call it that--I was editing and illustrating Minsk at the time. Monkey, Minsk and the real shooting had instantly obvious parallels. But I didn't spot this earlier echo till now--over three and a half years after the initial dream.
So now I'm a little less inclined to explain Fetal in terms of my personal feelings and personal woes--at least not vintage 2008! Not every psycho's inside you. From a high dream-window, you get a longer view. But acting on long sight's not easy. Even if I'd been certain this dream warned of a real murder to come, what could I have done? Dialed 911?
This is Dreamverse #17. Every day, a dream-poem, even if it kills me. Or someone.
LISTS AND LINKS:
false waking -
initiative vs procrastination -
opportunities lost -
dream poems -
Dreamverses project -
the next Dreamverse: Ancient Mare-Kin Graveyard
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