I wonder if we could view ourselves from the next dimension if our words and actions would seem as odd as dreamspeak does upon waking …
I can’t deep rain of thorns
The rules of the game belong to the tombstones (post 2016 election)
remember childhood math
a big dip
of the big dipper
angel of God,
I’m ready for my closeup now
I, the Language of Dreams, photograph by Michelle Tennison
What will you find if you write down the dialogue of your dreams?
The following are excerpts from my own dreams, copied verbatim upon awakening. At the time I was experimenting with writing poetry during hypnogogic states. It has been said that such dreamspeak has something in common with schizophrenic language and can be meaningful in an abstruse way. It can also be quite comical.
Below you will find snippets from a pedantic conversation about sculpture (which at the time seemed quite erudite), proverbial wisdom, and surrealist poetry:
Upon viewing art in a museum setting: “That’s a beautiful booger named gunshot.”
Walk to the lake on your many-toed journey.
dolls roll down in village trees
kisses salt until the sea salt that led the sea
beginning I’m a slow drifter
the sunshine weight
of butterfly 8