I don’t write about it because
writing about it
would be like the abortive attempt I made
in my spiral bound notebook —
the one with the mandala —
to describe the scene
with the wedding gown,
in the ground floor shop
of my dream last night.
The one with Winona Ryder who
donned a 1920s inspired
off-white sleeveless gown
(really, they were cap sleeves).
I opened the curtain of
the dressing room to find her
half-naked due to the
deep and dramatic V
reaching down her abdomen
revealing the
underscoop of her breasts
and half of one nipple.
“It’s beautiful,” I told her.
“But you’ll need to have it altered.
I’m worried they won’t be able
to maintain the look
once it’s fitted to your frame.”
She didn’t listen.
She told the seamstress to
press on and then, of course,
the dream shifted to the scene
in the ice cream shop
where the chiropractor I used
to know was offering me pills —
rat poison packaged as RU486 flavored
jelly beans.
They were red, with the taste of cherry,
and they made me gag as I chewed them.
So you see why
I can’t write about it.
There is beauty
and there is darkness
and they blend together at times
in a way that’s describable
but only to the point of
surreal not to the point
of understanding.
Not to the point
at which you know
you have navigated
directly into my thoughts.
and yadda yadda, an aliyah blog 
This is a richly intuitive ‘stream of consciousness’ poem. I too have those dreams where you mind drifts between apparently unconnected scenes, and you are left, in your waking moments, to try and make sense of them
LikeLike
I also have a lot of these kind of dreams. They always leave me feeling really creatively charged and I want to write about them, but I never know where to begin. I think you’ve inspired me! Nice work.
LikeLike
You’re welcome. It was impulsive but the result inspires me to write like this more often (soon after dream journaling ). Thanks for commenting.
LikeLike
Pretty dark for you
LikeLike
I must admit, my dark side keeps wanting out. I’m letting her.
LikeLike
Dreams are the weirdest things. I wish I could remember mine like this.
LikeLike
I’ve just had 2 nights in a row of dreams like this; dreams you want to capture but can’t, dreams that you feel deeply but, when you try to put them into words, the feelings dissipate. Beautiful poem.
LikeLike
Thank you. I find I can’t — or don’t give myself time to –adequately find language for the dream. The children clamoring for me to get up and make breakfast doesn’t help, either.
LikeLike
Ugh I know! My son is off to camp on Saturday for a month. I feel I should be more patient and focused on him but already I’ve lost weeks of writing time. Bad mama. But I sympathize with you.
LikeLike
There is beauty, there is darkness, and sometimes there is beauty in darkness. Love this poem, Jen!
LikeLike
wow
LikeLike