Such Dreams as Stuff are made on...

 

Dreams are such strange creatures

Presenting vivid or

amorphic features

 

They steep your mind

in make-believe

Where past & present

Interweave 

 

I'm in the woods

'neath a gnarly tree

Where friends of old 

run wild & free 

 

Friends who now rest

as soil or ash

Or who simply faded

into time's elapse

 

But, I'm standing there

Fully grown

Coconut in hand?

Slippers of stone?

 

Me school tie's a snake

Slithering about

I can't catch

the damn thing

I cry & shout out!

 

But, something comes creeping;

a feeling of dread

As darkness drifts in

amongst foliage, now dead

 

Me legs try to run,

but me slippers are heavy

And, besides, I'm now standing

In a big bowl o' jelly!

 

But, the dread drifts away,

as I look to the sky

To see the sun, replaced

by a lovely apple pie

 

Then, ahead in green fields

nestles pot-holes of gold

Overflowing with syrup 

A treat to behold!

 

I scoop out their innards,

with sweet, sticky skin

This beautiful nectar

of our earthly kin

 

Then I roll & I wiggle,

and burrow into earth

And emerge gasping air

on the day of my birth

 

All the family sit gaping

As I sit on the bed

Dripping shit & strange fluid

Embryonic sack on me head

 

Like some reluctant spaceman

I shoot up to the stars

And make little patties

with dust particles from Mars

 

Then, me little Granny - 

the one I never met

Floats down upon a feather

"Have you met ye Dad yet?"

 

I tell her, "Of course I have

"Or else I wouldn't be!"

So, we sit and have a natter

With a lovely cuppa tea!

 

This, all Perfectly coherent

to the creature that is dreams

Who comes with a needle

to pick away our worldly seams 

 

But, then I'm on a precipice!

I know I'm gonna fall!

I slip & scream like a child

A high pitched banshee call!

 

And now, I'm wide awake!

Leaping out of bed!

The Wife has grabbed the bedside clock

And thrown it at me head!

 

Later,

 

I settle down

To recall a dream I'd never know

But, the only question

that remained, was:

 

Where'd me coconut go? 

 

End.

 

 

 

 

coconutDreamslifeweird

◄ Cooking Pot!

Dryad ►

Comments

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Paul Sayer

Wed 28th Oct 2020 18:34

Side Note:

If you are unhappy about this or uncomfortable with it then
ALWAYS remember...

YOU ARE IN CHARGE.

Tell them to come back when you are awake (always set a time for them and always keep it mate).

If you wish to know more you know where I am.

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Paul Sayer

Wed 28th Oct 2020 18:31

Stephen make sure you keep a pad by your bed
and a pen or better a soft pencil.

You WILL get woken in the night to write down
the thoughts and utterances of those who
are constantly seeking poets like your good self
who will help them to write what time and death
robbed them of telling.

The above is NOT some sort of weird Halloween trite
to urge you to write.

It is 100% FACT... The truth.

I and countless others can attest to the reality of this.

In fact Stephen I fully intend to write a treatise on exactly this subject... and that of automatic writing.

Paul.

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Stephen Atkinson

Sat 24th Oct 2020 08:52

Thank you for the comment Julie, & all my dreams are strange lately! 🤯

And, John, you may be right. The waking world is just a nightmare right now. I'll let you in , if I can visit the bawdy aisles of Coopey land!

Thanks for tapping the Like button Jordyn, Shifa & Stephen 🌷

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John Coopey

Fri 23rd Oct 2020 21:54

I think this makes more sense than our waking world, Stephen. Will you let me in?

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julie callaghan

Fri 23rd Oct 2020 18:19

Nightmare! I hate strange dreams, Even worse when you can remember them. Enjoyed reading about this one though.

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