This is that day we’ve been dreaming of
This is the day when all words rhyme
And are such sweet music,
When the sleeper next to me is
No longer lost between the canvas of the mattress
And the landscape of my dreams.
Ends, now, the morgue of the cloudless sky
And the tyranny of perpetual rain.
We will not pull from our pockets
Odd dust balls and hard, rolled bits of paper
On which were written the sad truth.
Step now into the kitchen, laboring with our minds alone,
Sleepwalkers on the prowl,
As Morpheus bakes a cookie.
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14 comments:
Is this the day the dreaming ends?
Or whas it a dream we were dreaming of?
Very cryptic
BTW your word verification says "war"
hope that isn't an omen
Hi ozy, thanks for caressing this little mystery with your perceptive eyes. Which do you think is better, when the dreaming ends or when it begins? More directly, can we ever stop dreaming and can the dream be aware of itself? Can dreaming self select like some solipsistic, somnambulistic juke box?
The miracle of dream (even the worst of dreams) is that it can stop and nothing really happened, no matter how complete the experience was.
That place, the mandala, between the canvas of the mattress and the landscape....thougth provoking
Thanks for yor wise observations. Yes, my friend, we must see clearly sometimes the things we have usually been viewing by habit and assumption.
i love the first verse
the rest is locked in mystrey
i'm dreaming
of morpheus' cookie
your word verification says xanax
Dear chef:
My, this is a delicious fog of dreaming and (semi)concsciousness you've created. You've skillfully, beautifully harnessed the magic of soulful coupling and the misery of reluctant solitude.
And how I love that Morpheus finds time to bake a cookie between his somnabulistic mischief making! It does sweeten the blow.
Ah my Dear Scheherazade,
Everything is possible in dreams, even that which we may consume with passion and pleasure - I knew a girl who I consumed in restless dreams every time I met her in real life, just as she dreamed me into existence every time I entered her arms. That is how I learned to bake. BTW an oven without mischef breeds no ambition.
Ah, the simple pleasures of the kitchen!
rohn! xanax for communion - sleeping with the waking, waking with the dead asleep - Euchaarist of a real-time shared moment - dreams and reality, sacraments of love. As my friend ozy says, very cryptic!
I'm struck by the way the words roll so nicely when spoken aloud.
My take on the meaning is a description of a glorious day after a period of cloudy rainy days followed by a lte night and a restful sleep.
Metaphorically, happiness after a period of depression - but it is all an illusion, as medication is required to achieve said state. This could also allude to the state of nations at war/peace with a flase sense of security prior to the proverbial really hitting the fan. Wake up people - all is not well in the state of Denmark!
Cheers
Glenn
Hi Russell, I love the line "Ends, now, the morgue of the cloudless sky
And the tyranny of perpetual rain." Glenn mentioned how the words roll so nicely when spoken out loud - this line does so, and I have experienced the tyranny of perpetual rain. Very nice. Leigh
Hi Glenn! Thanks for the great comments, very insightful and what a fantastic bunch of possibles for intrepretations.
I like the music of words a lot and, although I don't always focus that way, sometimes what I write will try to be especially plesant to the ear.
Thanks for all the great words!
Cheers,
Russell
Thanks Leigh! Yeah, those are some of my favorite lines too. Glad to have your visit and I have been enjoying your site a lot lately. Thanks for all the kind and pleasant words. I also am well aware of those kinds of tyrannies and deaths caused by those too simple views.
Please come often,
Russell
The day we've been dreaming of is always the next one-but we must never stop dreaming-even my dog dreams, I think he chases things in his dreams naughty old thing, I imagine he catches themsometimes by his sleepy behaviour. No dreams are what make the sad truth bareable
I relish the opportunity to dream, usually. When I wake up in the morning, words just tumble out of me like opening the door too soon on a side load laundry machine. Alas, the sad truth is always there, so its nice to have some fresh smelling words to wrap it in.
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