Flight

I often dream of biracial people, men in particular, and I've worked out that there's a call for integration involved in these dreams.  I've established a personal meaning for this recurring character, and it's part of my dictionary of symbols now.  

This morning's dream felt like some kind of commentary on my established definitions---I'm still working it out:

I'm standing before a large mirror on a covered boardwalk near a sparkling ocean on a beautiful, sunny day.  The beach is deserted, as if it's off-season but just one of those remarkable perfect-weather days for a non-tourist to take advantage of.  I'm at peace and unencumbered by fear or any kind of need for something else.  The mirror reflects me as having long, ash-blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and pale skin.  I'm taller and bigger, a plus-sized woman, unusually pretty and feminine.  I'm very surprised, amazed and encouraged by this reflection, even though I know it's not "what I really look like" to other people.  I realize, because of what I see, that I can now try flying.  In my initial effort, I'm flapping vigorously and my progress is okay, but kind of jerky and unpredictable.  I soon come to understand that by letting the wind lift, sustain and carry me, and using my arms more like oars or tillers, just for steering in this medium of air, I can expend much less effort while flying much more effectively.  I can look around, and get my bearings, and feel the joy of flight, by trusting the forces that carry me along.

Huh.

Brother

     

     

     I am dreaming of my keeper’s brother

     that our hands will fit together

     that nothing needs to be said

     he knows my story

     dreams are such stuff as we are made on

     today I am a traveler

     not remembering the way I came

     far from the one who would lead me home

     my keeper

     dark clouds have been gathering

     I didn’t see them

     my brother

     when I look behind

     three crows stare back at me

     the canny one speaks my name  

     but nothing echoes in this place

     there are statues where we used to live

     some duty’s been forgotten

     someone’s been missing too long

     what am I?

     if not my brother’s keeper

Claw

     be docile now

     each thorn blunted

     means I’m in charge

     for now

     I’m in charge of this one

  even so it’s squirmy

  unsuited to submission

  I can’t get hold of every claw

  it hisses and it still has teeth

  it hides with its wounds and snarls

  in a crawl space

  it disturbs my sleep

     I admit there’s a fierce unrest in me

     that won’t stay put

     won’t understand that you mean well

     won’t relax in your arms

     like it wants to

     though you've given so much

     and doesn’t really trust you at all

Life

a cabaret

but a dream

good 

beautiful

short

hard

a bowl of cherries

a highway

not a fairy tale

precious

worth living

Sing

     Though there's nothing new under the sun

     still, I'll sing

     just as the original dreamer 

     told me to do

     Though there's no place like home

     still, I'll hold hands with a rusty man 

     and go nowhere with him

     if he longs to sing

     that's nothing new

     Though I'm beyond saving

     still, I will not be quiet

     or save my breath

     or be less

     

     Though the doors do not open

     though I stand here 

     in a wild fury

     knowing you are no longer within

     still, I'll sing

Hungry

     It isn’t funny 
     You don’t belong in the house

     Don’t get comfortable

     What do they feed you?

     Envy’s leaves and sorrow’s root?

     Rancor’s meager blood?

     Here’s a true feast then

     Whole heart, witnessing eyes

     Open throat, love's sighs

     What are you craving?

     My fresh tears in a teaspoon?

     Why are you dying?

     Hungry old dreamer

     Darken my door again and

     I’ll make you suffer

Arthur

Hi    It matters because   error is anathema to me--yea a veritable abomination--to wax biblical.

We should strive for correctness---else  sloppy thinking will prevail and lead to bad habits, not easily corrected.

There, that's my diatribe

Cheers    arthur