Dream Blossoms


The lingering feeling

of a dream awake,

and I

am not yet myself.

A sentence uncomposed,

still lost in a shadow,

fit between true dark

and the space

that is only absence.


Conversations mimic reality,

history and contingency.

The narrow rabbit warren

that is my childhood home,

an old hotel,

a shopping mall,

an open field,

feel dressed up

like a Hollywood soundstage.


Whatever this is;


or whenever this is,

I have been returning here,

night after night,

for my whole life.


Shake the world awake,

and consciousness

rises like a flower to the Sun.

It is cooling now,

an only day lilies

remain in my garden.

Dream blossoms.

Real survivors.


Open eyes give way

to this side

of whatever this thing is,

and on this side,

I must be ready.


The mists of merciful amnesia

slowly claim the place

that I escaped from

only minutes before.

The night time city;

maybe my hometown.


I guess I’ll find out

one day,

which world is real,

and which is the dream,

but not today.


not today.



HG – 2020

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