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!

~TH~