rise to the surface – in process

I woke this morning
Filled with dreams,
With want

But the want frightens me
As I am unable to untangle it
From discontent
And heartache

But when I am quiet
And honest
My dreams rise to the surface
Like a sea turtle in mama ocean
Raising his head out ever so gently
Through the surface of the water
For a bit of air.

When I look them in the eye
I see they are not a thing
To be afraid of.


Day 1
I am on a train, in danger I think,
moving quickly, holding on for dear life
but with no real fear
of anything.

I am surrounded
by those I know
but I do not feel like myself.

The train stops and
we hide in our open air
seats till we continue
on again..

I do not know where we are going
or see when arrive there.
Day 2
I am sitting in a bathtub.
the lovely kind with feet,
there is no water and I
am fully clothed.

I look around and there are countless bathtubs,
all side by side, perched atop very high pillars.

There are people in many of them,
but not all. We each move by
leaping from tub to tub.
Sometimes there are
two or three of us in a tub.

I see at a distance a tiger.
She is coming towards me.

I feel afraid as I begin to leap,
not looking down.
Day 3.
I am on a boat,
kayak like, small,
with familiars that I
cannot place.

The water and air are cold
and we are all bundled,
rowing to keep warm,
escaping perhaps.

Suddenly a sea creature
shows himself,
all tentacles and
one huge menacing eye.

We struggle wildly and
manage to beat him back
with our oars and boots,

but not until after
many have been stung.

Next we are ashore
in a warm comfortable place.
A doctor of sorts places
a blue jewel on my back
on the place where
I was stung.

He tells me
I cannot
fall asleep,
that if I do
I won’t wake again.

I struggle to keep my eyes open
longing for an escape
from the tiredness
and sorrow.
Day 4.
(in the middle of my first books editing)

I dreamt of a book
I haven’t yet written
dedicated to a daughter
not yet conceived.
Day 5.
I am climbing
forever climbing
up a gigantic ladder
made of pink hula-hoops.

The sky around me is beautiful blue
the sun is shining and there are
fluffy white clouds at regular intervals.

Eventually I reach the top.
I jump.

The fall is delicious,
warm air on my face.

I wake up before I hit the ground.


One morning
I arrive at work
to find that my friend
had dreamt of me
in a dress made
of lace and sun
and smiles
and of me
asking him
to follow
as I walked
away from
with tall grass
blowing beautiful
and breezy
and oddly
enough he
did follow
until he woke
and now we both
wonder where
I was leading us


There is a wonder
(and a horror)
to waiting
and wanting.
But when the
wonder ends
you are left
with only the

I come into
the presence
of wild things,
quiet things.
The stillness
of water and cold
at night with only
a coyote singing
to remind me
of movement
and the rest
of the waking

Dreams are
in the daylight.

The Interpretation of Dreams

I look out the window
surrounded by naked vines
and fog so thick I can no longer
see the birds who used to
swarm so joyfully.

It feels like it’s been ages
since I walked under a blue sky.

I read a book once that said
as humans when we feel an emotion,
in the midst of feeling it
we can’t imagine there
ever being a time when we
no longer feel that thing.
Though logically we know
it’s not true, we feel that
it will last forever.

It’s that kind of fog.

When I was young friends
would come to me for
an interpretation of dreams.

It was not hard.

There was meaning
right below
the surface,
asking me to reach down
and pull it up into the air.

I wonder if I reach up
into the fog
what kind of truth
will drip down on me.