20160301 (dreams)

Not a pleasant dream by my lights

If they judged us by our dreams

We’d all be crazy, no? Does anyone 

Have pleasant dreams? From my

Asking very few even dream. Or

Do they just not admit it for fear

Of what people might think? Jean

And I frequently shared our dreams.

She had very movie-like dreams.

She told me when she woke up to

Go to the bathroom, the dream would

Resume on her return to bed as if

She had hit pause on TIVO (actually

She would have hit pause on a 

VCR—but who remembers those?).

And Jean had pleasant dreams if I

Recall rightly her telling me about

Them. What you get with an honest

Heart and a guiltless soul. I, on the

Other hand (or side of the bed) fell

Off my side from frequent thrashing

During  dreams. She didn’t report me

Snoring because she slept soundly.

I wondered if sometimes she cued

Up dream-movies by thinking about 

Films before she hit the sack. I mean, 

Come on, she talked about musicals, 

For heaven’s sake. Who can believe 

That? Maybe she lied all those years.

If so, I wished she’d left a note or

Confession hidden somewhere I

Could find afterwards if she died

(Or predeceased me), as they say in

The biz. No note so far. I have to 

Think she was telling the truth.

Although who knows about your

Dreams? They’re not inside your

Head with you. “You’re embellishing”

“How do you know? You weren’t

There.” Maybe some day with

Electro-stimulation of our brains

Scientists will be able to excite

Dream content as they now do

Memories. Of course since they

Won’t (?) see them we could still

Embellish. God protect the 

Neurologist who probes my cortex

For dreams. Two or three visions

Of walls and ceilings closing in

While lizards snap at genitalia

Will hopefully get him (her?) to

Move the probe to another area—

Where former bosses assign me 

Impossible tasks and threaten 

My livelihood should I not come

Through. Then again they might 

Hit on the specters of nuclear

Annihilation—my own peculiar

Form of the walking dead, or 

Escapes from Viet Cong through

Booby-trapped jungles or tunnels

Savagely dark and damp until 

A flamethrower or hand grenade

Crisps all flesh in sudden light

And chest crushing sound,

Which replays a couple times

For good measure. Just about

Then I’d settle for a nice clean

Auto accident, crash and silence.

But not for me. It’d be clear

Consciousness of severed limbs,

Passengers crying (like young

Soldiers in war movies) for 

God to kill them to end the pain.

“You’re embellishing.” No, I’m 

Not. Listen I already take two

Meds daily just to stay above

Depression. I’m grateful they

Work most of the time to keep 

Such dreams away. I could

Use a pleasant dream every once 

In a while—even musicals if

I could get them. But not Disney

Princess flicks. I’d take lizards

Snacking on genitalia over that.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016