A Lucid Dream

Woman

Original spoken word poetry about an impossible awakening from a dream state, and yet, it happened in 2009. It never happened before, nor since, and I simply cannot explain it.

A LUCID DREAM

I once had a dream.

A waking dream.

Lucid, I believe it is called.

I was heading down some stairs,

In a dusty old brown house.

One hand upon the wall.

The other, well, I don’t recall.

My body was moving,

Like on a sleepy ride.

But my mind was awake,

Somewhere deep inside.

I remember thinking.

Whilst wide eyed blinking.

That I have been here before.

And in a moment,

I felt the urge to explore.

My movement felt poetic,

But restricted, under anaesthetic.

And my limbs did not obey.

Like I was on the tracks of a railway.

As I descended the stairs.

I could feel the hairs,

On the back of my neck.

I was too nervous to check.

But I wasn’t afraid.

The reason because,

This is my grans house.

Or, at least, it was.

My gran has been gone,

For many, many years.

So, this dream is impossible,

Which increased my fears.

And in that moment,

My mind popped awake.

And in these ominous surroundings,

I started to shake.

I would like to say my gran was remarkable.

And to me she was.

As a child her light was considerable.

For the rest of the world,

She was the outcome of missed opportunity.

Filling her lungs daily with impurity.

Fourty cigarettes a day was what she had.

Sixty if the day was really bad.

Six days per week.

And on the seventh day, well, she had bingo.

A gin and tonic accompanied a pint.

The pint was never drunk, it was only for show.

A full glass overflowing, for those who would never know.

But I need to know.

What is going on?

I try to raise a hand.

It’s held back by the morning sun.

It was shining through the glass of the front door.

And, if I could feel that,

I wanted to feel more.

I felt my body turn.

It was no longer at rest.

I tried to stay steady,

And I tried to protest.

Slowly, I reached for the latch of the door.

I turned the lock, it clicked, then clicked once more.

And the door started to open,

Its seal now broken.

And the outside sun poured in.

And, relieved, I let out a grin.

And then I felt a jolt,

In the pit of my soul.

Invisible elastic pulling me back up the stairs.

Something else was in control.

And then I sat up,

In bed, wide awake.

And as I calmed down,

I thought, was this a mistake?

And as I felt the shaking cease,

I embraced an inner peace.

Sitting upon my divan.

I felt blessed, to remember my gran.

(c) Jay Rose Ana

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