Poem: Dreamland


You wake slowly, disturbed
at the simplicity of your room
after an hour of dreams,
vibrant, madcap, full of powers and music
you cannot reach in your waking hours.

About this poem.

I dream. A lot. Vibrant. Mostly wonderful and fantastic. Dali meets Rembrandt and Monet. Full of music, smells and touch. Did I mention vibrant? And it is often a disappointment to wake and find that whole world I lived in for an hour or so was only in my mind. I start so many days in that place of loss and disappointment.

Ah, but the real world! I would not trade it for anything. Unlike the other worlds, it never abandons me. And the value in that is indescribable.


PS: The picture was taken at Mass MoCA.

Leave a Reply

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s