Dreams

My dreams are seeping and

weaving into daytime

haunting places so real they test my sanity.

I can't remember if they were once

a part of my conscious life

or some fantasy landscape I've created

repeating itself over and over

behind my lids as I sleep and dream.

There is a place so familiar

a place that returns again and again

where I swim unafraid and calm

in green murky waters

aware that reeds and seaweed

are reaching up from the bottom

swirling around me as I swim.

Strangely, I'm not afraid

I just keep swimming in that

dark green water toward the other

side without struggle or fear . . . even though

I never seem to get there.

What are dreams?

What are we to learn from them?

I often wonder, as so many have,

which is reality . . . this life I'm living, or my dreams?

Perhaps both . . . perhaps they are one.

Still I wonder

if the bits and pieces of my days

are painting the palate of my brain

trying to make some connection at night

with that wild spirit bound in chains

and the deeper meaning of my life

hoping to form a bridge to the other side?

Joanne Cucinello   2013