Below is the poem entitled The Ghost Dream which was written by poet
Smith. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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*I had this dream several days ago. I've been thinking about it ever since ... about how to put it into words. I realized that what I really wanted to capture was not the events that happened (which I will not go into much detail at all about) but the overwhelming emotion that I felt inside the dream and even after it was over. I've been calling it, "The Ghost Dream" to myself. Here it is, vague and unjust as my attempt at it might be ... poetry or not.
My memory of the dream begins ...
I'm walking toward the edge of the woods.
I reach them and enter.
It seems that here I sustain some sort of injury.
I don't recall it being physical, although it sent me into unconsciousness
inside the dream itself.
I wake to find myself in a cabin,
and I know that three years have passed.
I'm overwhelmed with dread,
as I know that the three years might as well have been a hundred.
The life that I knew had passed,
and I found myself walking through parts of my own story ...
doors to gym locker rooms,
doors to houses where people I knew had lived,
doors to buildings where I'd worked,
but I always passed under the door,
through the crack.
The feeling was not unpleasant.
It felt like being real enough to be forced to get past the door,
but being unreal enough to be able to stretch myself beneath it.
I walked among the people I knew like a ghost.
They could see me,
and they spoke to me,
but always with a faint disconnection,
as though I was nothing more than a memory come to life.
The love that my wife once had for me was gone,
replaced by a feeling that was no more intense
than a shrug of the shoulders.
My children had aged far more than three years,
and although I knew they remembered me,
their eyes were glass.
And when I looked into them,
all I could see was a misty figure staring back at me.
More so than the images I saw,
I remember the feelings the dream awoke ...
helplessness, confusion, and despair.
Were someone to ask my dream family,
"Is this your father? Is that your husband?"
I know they would have said,
"Our father is gone. I have no husband."
I came back to the waking world feeling troubled and distant,
as though it was never really a dream at all ...