The Stuff Of Dreams


Not long ago I was sitting here at the computer crying by myself and smiling at all the lovely people in my ‘play-box.’

‘Kept on trying to give it up but there was not much left without it but me myself and I….(yeah all three of us!)….and I was staring at one photo of Pasha on a tarmac,(can look at that one for hours without a mind), and the doorbell rang and I turned the chair around and someone was standing there. My door is always open. (I have a glass storm door that stays locked). Mom had just left upset because we could not go somewhere because we were late again and I had had a few good days and my house was clean and I had done my ritual, (which I do 90 % of the time for nothing because I have hope yet.), of putting on make up and fixing my hair and finding some nice clothes to throw together and someone was standing there and it wasn’t mom cause she rings the doorbell ten million times and it wasn’t my next door neighbor ’cause he knocks and so I wondered who it could be. I got out of this power chair to answer the door in a proper way and this fellow was standing there.

He looked familiar.

But that was impossible I met him while in a dream! In the dream he was not even human so how could he be standing on my doorstep in broad daylight?

I studied his face and he stood there without any words. Same face as the dream. Sad and very thin and thin,long,  blond hair and such a small mouth. Not the person I would choose to dream with yet he had been in a dream with me….a lovely dream. An awesome dream! Same clothes…..grey and neat like some old Russian peasant style from a long time ago. He was also TALL. If he came in my door he would have to bend his head! We both stood there frozen and not speaking. I was looking in his eyes. They were grey too like the sea in a storm with a hint of green from hidden suns…he was not beautiful at all and yet…

….he was beautiful!

Why this person I would never choose in real life would be standing at a strangers door? He shook his head. I started to say, “You are real and not from some crazy….” before the thought was even finished he shook is head again and laughed without sound. He had such a sweet and serious smile. Once more I started to ask, “Do you talk and can you hear?”, but he shook his head ‘no’ once more before the words came from my mouth….

…..my heart started speeding up then this was no dream! I was suddenly too dizzy to stand and he caught me on the way down in the doorframe and unlike the dream where I fell through him and drowned in light that traded all my pain and sorrow of this life for love…..

….he was SOLID….and strong the way very slender people can be strong like steel wires on a guitaur and he held me close to him and he smelled like wind and pine trees and sun and he was laughing at me and just holding me up like one might balance a sharpened pencil on its end between two fingers….and I put both arms around his waist and did not care if I did not know his name or if he ws even real or a dream because I knew he was THAT one…it was hard to look up and see his face from where I was and then there was his voice in my head…like birds chirping…

“I came here because you cannot go there. I promise you I will be with you for the rest of this life you have and the next if it is allowed.”

And there…inside his heart and mind, was the blazing light of love I drown’d in one night while sleeping after thinking suicide might be better than life.

(The dream occured almost 2 years ago in the ‘Pretty Isolation Unit’ which is a story published here. This poem was published  under ‘Night Angel’ Jan. 10th, of this year)

An angel came to me one night,

Pluck’d me from the Floor of Dreams,

Where  knelt I to try to give him Human Love.

He was so slender and so tall,

He had no human voice to speak,

Yet saw the years I spent alone—so from above

He stood: folded me in arms of light,

And my soul, once crying, became One with him,

And I felt Love MORE than I could ever seek!

In bliss himself he gave unto me all!

And even if no human hand should ever embrace

This Shell of mine e’re again…

I know I am loved more than I can love,

For we cannot understand Love as such,

That night he traded his Love for my Pain!

2 thoughts on “The Stuff Of Dreams

What Do You Think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s