Non-Dreaming

 ‘Wake up,’

Her lips whispered

Thin creases brushing gently

Against the contours

Of his resting ear

 

 But he was dreaming

Of what he never remembered

Only retaining the black void

Between his waking states

Just a silence

And nothing more

 

 ‘Wake up.’

She said again

Causing a stirring beneath

The lids

But he remained still

 

 In the dream

The one he won’t recall in a moment

He was standing in the ruins of a once loved

Red brick house

But the paper had been pulled from the walls

Wire stripped from the sockets

Windows shattered

 

 Someone had taken their time

Destroying what the house used to offer

As if it had offended them with some great

Nearly monumental

Act

 

 But he had missed the destruction

And the offence

All that was left was the ruin

 

 His back was to the missing entrance

Framed by shattered windows

And he was facing a winding staircase

But he didn’t want to go up there

Yet

So instead he went to the dining room

With its shattered chairs and broken table

Rotting fruit scattered

In the fragmented remains of a bowl

 

 ‘Wake up..’

She said causing his head to turn

Towards the remains of the kitchen

And the living room beside it

 

 There was nothing in either

No evidence of a person

In the space between these

Damaged appliances

Smoldering electronics

No sign of life here

And no purpose to the carnage

There was no evidence of looting

Just destruction

Holes in walls

Everything broken

Nearly systematically

 

 His coat snagged on these remains

As he wandered through

Finding his way back to the starting point

Back at the missing front door

Once again

He was staring at the winding staircase

Devoid of thought

And lacking purpose

He removed a cigarette

From the inner coat pocket

 

 He passed through his exhale

As he mounted the stares

Expecting nothing more than the same

But he was greeted by a picture of

A happy family

Smiling back at him

Through the intact glass

Of a picture frame

 

 The upstairs was left untouched

Everything in place and in order

And by comparison to the decay past the rail

Looking down on the living room

It was pristine

Until he heard the click

And felt the trembling barrel pressed to

The back of his head

 

 So the overcoat turned

To face the man

Playing Russian roulette

With the back of his head

 

 He wanted to ask him what had happened

Wanted some kind of an answer

But before the words could be asked

He pulled the trigger

 

 “Wake up…”

She said gently into his ear

“You were dreaming again.”

 

 “I don’t dream.” he said

“Well you were talking in your sleep again.”

She said with a smile

 

 “What did I say?”

“I don’t like to gamble.”

04/11/2013

0642 am

Author's Note

I'm kinda hung up on the title. Is it still a dream if he dosnt remember or is it a non dream or what would a non dream be if there was such a thing? I guess i mean to say that im not happy with the title. But its a functioning title... i dunno..

Reviews

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I think the title has your usual stamp of genius! And, this brilliant piece has triggered so many thoughts and so many questions in my mind that my brain is buzzing. But first, I must compliment you yet again on the sheer perfection with which you pay attention to details and create visuals with words. This post was like watching a movie.

In fact, if I really think about it, this genre of poetry that you have invented and own, has the potential to be converted into a cinematic format very easily. You sort of give the reader the screenplay, you direct, you tell us a story and the characterization of the people in the story gives them a distinct identity which is full of life and real enough for one to relate--in some way--with them.

I think the most compelling part of this particular post is the set up. The end is just so unexpected and so brilliant that I was absolutely baffled by your mastery of story-telling. I know you are extremely gifted but the more you write, the more you excel.

This particular subject--of dreams that one can't quite remember--is an extremely challenging subject to write about. Since a really long time now, I've been trying to escape dreams and the more I try, the more vivid they are when they're happening. But when I wake up, I can't remember the entire dream because it seems like it lasted several hours.

I can recall the end of the dream but I can do nothing to know all of it, except speculate. Sometimes, I have the end and some fragments. It's tough to join the dots and even tougher to join them and recreate them in words. But I'm inspired by this post to at least make one attempt to write about one of my dreams. Thank you for that.