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I Dream (A Lot)

I dream the scent of onions frying in a pan

I dream of flying

and slicing crusty artisan bread

I dream that you kissed her and I understood

the wrestling of demented figures in the shrouds beneath the mountains

I dream I am writing

to Billy, the agony aunt of dreams

and penning embroiled tales about penanggalan

I write of stored data in my membranes

I write of dreams that are stirred by the Sun

I dream of your skin that has the Sun in it

I dream the plates are warming in the oven

And the scraping crunch as you butter toast

The weight of cutlery is a pavlovian clang

Calling me away from dreams

I remember the dream as if I were dreaming still

I dream of lucidity and remember illusions of control

I dream of collaboration and the ease of water

I walk with you in the Imbolc light, following the joyous gurgle of the river

And I dream deeply of a wide berth from scrambled minds

Much like mine but less abstained

I dream to taste coconut and cacao on my tongue

But love that you made me scrambled eggs with curry powders and coriander

I love the sound of the chopping board beforehand

I dream of home with you when I am here

And I yearn to create dreams

Instead I fall into my phone, not for entertainment always

But sometimes for writing

vital notes that could change my life

I write down these ideas and other kinds of dreams until they overflow

I yearn for you to rearrange your time around my dreams although I know you have your own

I dream of activity like the solar greening of Spring, the rush that instigates me once a year

Twice if I am lucky

I wonder if I can dream it into steady frequency

Listening to the oil heater click and the static inside my ears makes me think I can

Dream of writing, painting and dissolving for a living

I dream a simple life where I also devour flames

I dream I am a mother and artist and I am chosen

I am a taker, watching the river run deep

🎨/📷 by Henri Matisse, Polynesia, the sky, 1946

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