I often wonder in my head
If angels watch while I’m in bed.
Is it they who help me see and hear
Those I have loved and held so dear.
Mother, father, husband, son
I dream about them every one.
When I awake, they’ve seemed so real
My limbs reach out to touch and feel.
Ere I remember that it’s just a dream
I fear I’ve said or done some careless thing.
To upset or hurt--my greatest fear
As it often was when they were here.
I long to sleep and dream once more,
To see the ones I saw before.
But now they’ve gone; again I lose.
We’ll talk again when the angels choose.
Tossing turning
Interrupted sleep
What are my dream voices telling me
I'm quite, I listen carefully.
So many thoughts
I jot them down quick.
Maybe its telling me something
Maybe?
Voices, that's it.
Use mine on
My stage in life.
Carry on the music
Fill the radio
Make people laugh
Sing, or talk, hidden though.
.
Use my voice so simple
It now just dawns on me
People tell me everyday
Its different, not ordinary.
All this time fighting
Trying to figure my calling
So simple
I dream and then it shouts.
Use what God gave you.
Make people laugh and cry
You don't have to be in site
Hidden away anywhere
You may use your voice to entertain
This world.
the wind blows hard
and winter's turned cold
I pulled up my collar
against the driving snow
the roads are slick
and covered with thick ice
I dream of warmer days
and summer on the way
my eyes are stinging
watering with tears
it hasn't been this way
for oh, so many years
I'm chilled to the bone
just longing to be back home
I dream of warmer days
and summer on the way
out here in the heartland
all the pipes are freezing up
snow is piling in drifts
there is way more than enough
a snow day for the kids
a skiers paradise
I dream of warmer days
and summer on the way
bring back the heat
days by the swimming pool
days of shorts and flip-flops
sweat with all I do
I can take anything
I don't have to shovel
I long for warmer days
and summer on the way
In purple twilight of REM mode
where loss of reaction dwells.
Inner thoughts corrupt, corrode,
peaceful slumber, anxiety swells.
Eyes flutter trying to concentrate,
directing bodily forces, not there.
Focusing thought to force irate
confrontation to the obtuse, fare.
The scene comes and goes away,
we reach within our mind to grab it,
clinging, we emerge and sway,
between fact and fiction we emit.
Stop, let my true dream emerge,
Not some farcical, non real jam
woven from cognizant thought gurge.
Let me spin truth’s web of who I am.
® Sep 04 2010 Charles Henderson
Catagory: The dream of self
For Constance's "Fragmented Dream" contest
Tara
Maiden, Mother, Crone, and Seer
Daughter of Trina Jennings
Lover of her family, loyalty, and eternal love
Who feels the courage to love again, tenacity to try again, and faith to dream again
Who fears abandonment, loss, and the guilt of the living
Who would like to see Heaven through her Mother eyes,
Dream Land through her son's, and
Life through her husbands heart
Resident of Dream Land, a plane of inspiration and belief
Jennings-Irwin
Lucid Dreaming
There’s a place in your dreams
Where I’m told you can go
And know that you’re dreaming
But able to guide the dream show.
I’ve tried and I’ve tried
A dream journal I’ve kept,
But I’ve never been able
To gain control when I slept.
It would be such a wonder to know
That my dreams could stop running so fast,
And turn to find your loving arms
Holding me tightly at last.
To enter this dream state is not easy
I’ll keep trying, its secrets to reveal
For to somehow find you in my dreams
Would be the wonder I’m longing to feel.
Sometimes I believe my dreams
Are nothing more than empty schemes,
And far from standing great and tall,
The truth reveals me, insignificant, small,
And all the words I say or write
Will vanish with me in the darkest night.
But inside I know I don't dream in vain,
Even when dreams die amid tears of pain.
Because all I dream and all I do
Is dreamt or done for love of you.
So when I die and they forget my name,
If you have loved me, I've got my fame.
Whose dream is it anyway,
the lady in Hoboken
with the green hat,
the fellow on the bus
with the unlit cigar,
the guard at the desk,
your boss in the next room,
mom, dad, whose dream?
Claim it like your own suit,
the one you wear with pride
or at least appreciation.
From time to time,
take your dream out
and show it to the world.