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Early in the morning,
as the stars shine at night,
love makes my heart sing,
music fills my life;
when I wake up and the rain is pouring,
as I drift off to sleep,
a song, a voice, a melody,
takes me to my dreams and set alight
my deep thoughts like a fire.
My dreams are epic,
my dreams are sometimes dark-
but they are more often than not
overwhelmingly insightful and bright.
My dreams have things in them that have significance
and hidden meaning-
whether it is the sight of a typewriter,
or the echo of a clocks tick,
or the sight of someone taking a photograph of me
as I am taking a picture of them-
it always amazes me what my own subconscious conjures up
during the day in the heat of the sun,
or at night when the moon is reflecting light back at the Earth
and at all of us and influencing our thoughts and fortunes.

We all go to bed with thoughts, feelings,
and inflections of the day before that is slowly drifting away,
and its events will soon have gone by and be no more
than a shadow, when all is said and done;
we all wake up the next day feeling different,
but with certain splinters in our mind
still playing on our thoughts
that we can’t rid ourselves of or shake easily-
some of us get up and try to start their day
and free ourselves of any lingering worries or concerns
with a daily morning run,
some of us sit up in bed and listen to music,
watch TV, read a book, write poetry,
someone of us take hold of our favourite instrument
and play to our hearts content,
some of us just sit and cry on our own,
just so we can vent.

Talking is important;
connections are essential;
letting out and letting go
can be like the cool water from a font;
remembering the people you love,
and where you want to be,
because they are to you the most wonderful and the most special,
needs to be, must be, will always be-
and that is why you must run, walk, look, see,
the magic all around in the daylight;
that is why you must run into the ocean of the unknown;
that is why you need to touch and feel a part of the light;
that is why you must be fearless, bold, and brave,
and let the world and everything in it fill your life.

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The stars above twinkle brilliantly
in the shimmering light of the Summer night,
the heat in the air, the closeness,
the stickiness, the dryness, the silence,
is like a blanket over everything,
but a cool breeze that feels as if it has magically
come out of nowhere makes everything feel
more like heaven then hell-
not too cold, not too warm: just right.

Well into the night, families, friends, people,
everyone is taking full-advantage of the great weather
and are out in their gardens enjoying themselves-
some people are drinking,
some people are just sitting there in the open-air,
some people are writing, some people are reading,
some people are trying to get a good night’s rest,
some people are listening to music-
this heat can make people do funny things,
things that until they surprise you
with something completely random that they do
you would never think they had it in them-
it’s like they’re under a spell.

It’s amazing to me how calm it is,
it’s phenomenal to me how beautiful the world looks
even in darkness,
it’s astonishing to me how much I and everything seems at ease,
it’s perfect to me how much people feel drawn together
to be together by something universally-natural and subconscious.

Lying on my bed, the insomnia from the heat of the night
soaks into me thoughts and makes me dream awake
of far-away tropical rain-forests, white sandy beaches,
and swimming in the cool revitalising ocean coast
of a lush isolated island somewhere,
and when I do dream the images that explode into life
and colour my imagination, my mind, my heart, and my soul,
make me sleep, wake, and live each day without a care in the world.

I am wide-awake at 1 a.m.
and I have just awoken from a dream,
in which crows and seagulls were at war with each-other
outside my bedroom window- in the sky, on the ground,
fighting for the air, the rooftops, the food to be found;
I dreamt that the crows and the seagulls were in the throws
of aerial-combat of the speed, manoeuvrability, and ferocity,
of a World War II dogfight- darting, swooping,
and attacking like winged-warriors of black and white.

4 a.m. and I am awake again.
I decide to read a book,
then I listen to some music,
then I return to my book again.
I am restless. The sun has yet to rise.
I get out of bed and decide to make myself a cup of tea-
the rooms of my home are dark, but I know this house so well
that I no longer need to rely on my eyes
to find what I can’t at first see.
I can’t remember what I was dreaming about before I woke up this time;
if I recall correctly I felt like I was still awake,
but I was definitely still dreaming-
the world looked familiar, but it didn’t make sense;
everything around me was something I felt a connection to,
but it was as if they were not mine.

Seven o’clock in the morning. I open my eyes, I close them again,
and then I open them wide, wondering whether I am awake, dreaming,
or in-between places, and I look again at my surroundings to be my guide.
Before I awoke, I dreamed that I was walking the streets of a bustling city-
not knowing where I was going, but that I had somewhere to be.
The city was full of people that I knew well,
I felt like I was walking through a memory-
everything seemed so detailed, real, clear.
I could have been dreaming, I could have been awake-
at first, it was hard to tell.
I was walking across an open square, with people standing around talking
and people sitting on benches conferring with each-other,
and no one was looking at me.
I tried to say something, but I couldn’t make a sound;
I looked to my feet and saw a notebook and a pen lying on the ground.
I picked up the pen and started to write what I wanted to say in the book,
and I realised that the notebook was already full of words and thoughts
written in blue ink and written in what looked like my hand-writing
but scattered in all directions- as if they had been shook.
Then I looked up and everyone who was looking the other way
was now watching me;
one of the women sitting on a nearby bench stood up and approached me
and took the red notebook our of my hand, closed it,
and then gave it back to me.
I was confused, disorientated,
but I wanted to know why she had just done that-
so I approached the woman who had returned to her seat,
and then I saw that she was sitting next to and talking to someone
who looked exactly like me.
I looked down at my “other-self”
to make certain I was seeing who I was seeing,
and then my other-self turned his head to look up at me,
and with a smile and a nod of his head
my dream disappeared in a flash of light
and I was opening my eyes, closing them, and opening them again.

In the morning light, as I stare out my window at the outside world,
so bright and beautiful and cloaked for now in silence,
I feel that things are not what they seem.
I get dressed, I make myself a cup of tea,
and then I muse to myself about the things that happen in between dreams.

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