astral projection

Twice now this week
I have woken from dreams
Of Chicago.
They are filled with meeting new people and
Sharing meals and conversations,
Airports and brownstone neighborhoods.

But I have no idea why Chicago
Though I do have two beloveds living there.

My nightly adventures could not be more different
Than this quiet life,
Near woods and water
In the back hills of the Missouri Ozarks.
No busy streets with milling folk,
Street lights or traffic noise here.

But the dreams feel so real
It makes me consider astral projection.
And I wonder if I should check my pockets
For L train tickets
Or notes written on the back of receipts
From fine restaurants along the magnificent mile.

on waking from a dream of rivers

lake

tangled in filament
fishing lures weighted down by memory
and forgetfulness

I ramble thru the weeds and rushes
counting damsel fly wings
and catfish whiskers

haze draws blue against the fragrant cedars
the color of frost in the heat of the morning

and my skin smells of fish scales
and my hair, the wildness of the rivers glory

the road is too dusty so
I follow maps drawn by dragonflies
cartography etched in delicate wings

the waters coursing
blood veined tributaries
ebbing and rising
ventricles and aortas
scribed deep blue across the parchment

and my skin smells of mussel shells
and my hair, the glory of the rivers wildness

*** I have been dreaming almost every night recently, of rivers and moving water. Thought this interpretation was interesting and hit pretty close to home.

‘Rivers – Rivers symbolize your journey in life whether its physical or spiritual one. If the river water is flowing fast it can mean rapid changes might occur soon. It is also possible that you feel out of control in your life and need to slow down. If the river is calm and peaceful it means being comfortable with the changes in your waking life.’ DreamDictionary.org

I Dreamt of You

I dreamt of you last night
But not really
I didn’t see you or hear your voice
Maybe
It was more the essence of you
The idea of you
In a photograph
Or a thought
I dreamt of you last night
But not really
It was more that you were
Still in my world
There was no feeling of loss
Or grief
Or sorrow
But not really
I dreamt of you last night
And woke to you missing
Gone so long ago
But not really
Gone just today
Again

*** Dreamed of my dad last night – gone almost 19 years now – still miss him everyday.

Egg Dreams

Egg Dreams

Wrapped in white porcelain, hollowed inside the ovoid sphere,
Does the tiny embryonic bird dream of wings?
Its cells divide and compound its being, making this bit bone
And that bit feather.  Its throat filled with amniotic fluid,
Where its song will lodge. Does it dream of the rainforest
Or magenta petals of the flower?  Newly created feathers
Sprout from cells whose calling are colors of blue or red
Or green. Does the forming Aves dream of brilliant skies,
the feel of the wind under those fetal wings?  Is the map
to migratory destinations written in its infant marrow?
The fragility of bone, flesh, flight, feathers, heart,
Blood, song, wings- does the tiny nascent bird dream?

Kathleen G. Everett © 2012