A Compilation of Dreams

Christmas morning

at 2:30 AM in 1981,

I got up to see which one

of my friends was knocking

on my front door.

I noticed you

never, once.

To show

real life alien

autopsy, the only person

who can

ever know,

will tell us.

Today, we still

don’t know.

We looked at each other

and then looked away.

He had plans of never.

Revisiting that city.

I've seen

you before.

Have you

seen me?

They spoke

an unrecognised

language, refused

to eat anything,

harboured by retired

military cameraman.

Many more did not share

their knowledge with the outside

world, which had disintegrated,

and never returned.

Like the search plane

that went looking

for them the same

day. We both just sat

there in the car, waiting.

The triangle

is one,

although discounted

as myth

by scientists,

there have been

reported sightings.

Glacial movement

4.21 AM,

reported weird

phone call interference,

possibly from radio station

existing, where there

had been none.

It could get pretty

freaky,

late at night,

soaked with delay

and reverberation.

There were seven

of them traveling.

They were

following him.

Photographic evidence

of a spiritual realm,

existing beyond

the physical material

that our bodily selves inhabit,

will always create

controversial responses

in those who prefer

to believe

there is nothing beyond

the physical realm

surviving after death.

To choose

a solitary time.

Look out!

I've encountered this

before

in other dreams.

Come here,

I'll show you.

A friend of my mother's

had broken

a guitar and was going

to burn it

in his backyard

on their bonfire.

Two hundred and six

birds

landed on power lines.

I think there was

something there.

Prayer scaffolding.

Mantis architecture.

I can remember the pain,

still.

Here,

eat these.

When to the wind

you close

the window

the curtain

falls still.

The last

letter. Never sent

scented, final.

Anything I said

was impossible to understand.

Acquiescing

to ultramarine

gurney ended,

coded wishing

I'd never

looked back

whenever it was

like that

so soon gone

too far

too late

to tell time

had escaped

the room

once before,

at the edge,

of the place

where matter

expands as space into

the void

where it has yet

to arrive

as a long-eared,

pink, plush,

soft toy rabbit,

snugly

and securely

tucked,

under the arm

of asleep,

and dreaming

child.