dream journal, a surreal recollection
I wonder just how much of my dreams are premonitons and how much of it are just nonsensical make believe.
I never know who I’m dreaming of these nights.
I toss and turn, drift in and out of surreal lifelike dreams and wake up feeling lost and restless.
In my dreams, I see a ring, none on my delicate ring finger but one on yours. We were strolling slowly along a boardwalk, and you leaned against the wooden fence at the side of the pier, looking out into the waters intently before turning to face me.
We engage in conversation, though I can’t remember exactly what we talked about, and whether or not you finally came clean about how you feel or if we danced around it again, and played pretend like we’re two hopeful lovers who are unaware of the pressing issue at hand.
In another dream of mine, I was at a coffee shop somewhere in New York. I can’t be sure if it was with you or with someone new, but there I was, seated by the window in a sundress, on a date of sorts with someone.
All I remember is feeling like it was a serendipitous encounter of sorts, like we were meant to be there at that exact moment, to have our paths cross and our worlds collide.
In yet another dream, I’m travelling with someone in Europe — perhaps it was Croatia or Italy maybe? I’m not sure where exactly but I know it’s a city where the sun beams brightly and where its coasts are filled with with scenic beaches.
He hugged me from behind and I remember what I was wearing that got him so hot and heavy — a white babydoll dress with a striking blue bikini underneath it.
Again, I’m not sure who it was that I was dreaming of, but he was affectionate and passionate, and I was more than happy to be devoured and satiated. We were up early anyway, and the city will still be there for us to explore after we’re done with each other.
Cut to another dream of mine, I’m seated in the passenger seat and we’ve stopped along the roadside, right next to a big empty field adorned with beautiful wildflowers of all shapes and colours.
Whoever it was, he beckoned me over and there we were, frolicking freely in the open field. He made me a bouquet made out of the wildflowers he foraged for me and adorned my hair with a flower or two.
It must have been sometime during late spring or early summer, for I was twirling around in a sundress, accompanied by maybe a cardigan or a denim jacket.
I’ve got more of such dreams stored away in my notes app, but these were the ones that struck me greatly and have ingrained itself in my brain.
I wonder just how much of my dreams are premonitons and how much of it are just nonsensical make believe.
Do you believe that our dreams are a window into an alternate reality or perhaps a sneak peek into the future of just what could be? Or are you simply cynical and never one to wonder about such things?
Lovesick boy prays in my bedroom at night
Says he worships something godlike
His hands make a steeple asking to be forgiven
Patron saint of making war within
And I'll cut my hair if it's the only thing I haven't tried changing
I'll be your wish, I'll be your well
I'll be your little miracle
You're changing for the better
Open a window
I'm finding it harder to breathe
Summer's on its deathbed
And you've no time to grieve
Said you know how to smoke weed
You're writing bad poetry
Sing it again
Play it again
That song that's about me
Baby please hold me
Kiss me goodnight
Kiss me goodbyе
If I had wings, I'd cut them off
Give them to you if you asked