Last night, I had a dream. (it partly inspired this poem – Unfeeling in the Lands of Plenty) I suppose in many regards it wasn’t a too unusual dream, well… not by my own, somewhat odd standards, anyway. Over the years I have become accustomed to falling asleep and entering the crazy land of my vivid dreams. I have written about them before.
So, for the past few nights I have been a little unsettled because of a cold I am currently battling through – I think I’ve got it on the back foot! Anyway, I awoke this morning with that all-familiar feeling of having a dream that means something, though sometimes the meaning is lost, and all I’m ultimately left with is a beautiful, vestigial glowing. Like the shimmering of the road surface on a hot and humid day, or the subtle effect that de-ja-vu has. It is warm, it flows around my body with a hurried vigour. And in that moment, as I let it flow through my soul, I wonder how I’ve ever lived without it – how I manage to live without feeling it in the real, waking world. It’s something that I crave. Something that in reality is completely unreachable.