I don’t overly concern myself with whether or not we dream in color. Frankly, when I have a disturbing dream, my focus is not on the tint.
Today I completed a poem that describes a (portion of a) dream/nightmare I had last night.
Describing dreams is like attempting to capture smoke with gardening gloves on. You’re constantly convinced that if you could just take off the gloves – victory! Your own dreams haunt you best, because they are yours. If you describe your nightmare as Mickey Mouse chasing you I would assume that you’re Goofy.
Further, I posit that when you dream of people you know, you often dream of a percentage of them. In my case, my wife appeared before me, yet the visceral and emotional effect on my mind was that she was only about 80% my wife – the other 20% being unrecognizable (and scary). Later I recognized others in varying degrees of recognizability [CAUTION: MADE-UP-WORD].
I’m not interested in what dreams “mean” because I have settled into the comfortable belief that dreams are your brains way of shaking five Yahtzee dice in a cup while murmuring, “Thank GOD he’s finally asleep so we can play!” Still, the front end of this dream shook me, and I wanted my poem to shake you too. I hope it does. Mmwa-ha-ha-hah-HA!
Line one of haiku:
When spring is supposed to arrive, that is to say by the calendar, my woodpecker reappears. I’ve come to think of him (her?) as a pet that I don’t need to take care of. Every morning at 8:20 he’ll arrive and play Reveille by way of taps, assuming it’s not raining.
It’s really cold today, but I hear pecking!
A favorite ritual of mine is to gaze up at the tangle of branches and vines, trying to locate him. It takes patience, but it often pays off. You need to look for the tell-tale jackhammer head doing the work. I’m always amused when I site him, that such a loud noise can come from the work of such a small bird. Have you ever noticed how often that’s true in real human life as well? Many of the giants in science, industry, education – many appear unassumingly small in social stature.
Among the tangled branches and vines, they laser-focus on the one important task at hand. Sometimes all of mankind benefits from their focus. I’m not convinced that my pet woodpecker contributes greatly to the well being of all other birds, but he certainly helps me. ~TH~
Writing is a pain in the ass, but I’m having so much fun. I feel a dismal melancholy for those of you who are not now, just this minute, reading this entry. What a jaded existence this must be for you! Alas, I can not tarry, my muse awaits. Go on without me, me knowing that you are the true victim – not me. Please, reassure me- not me!