Girl of My Dreams

This is my attempt to record a stunning dream I had. There's a lot of room for improvement but I just wanted to get it written out before the memory of it faded.

 

She pulled me out of a nightmare and into her bedroom.

The nightmare was darkness and poison air.

She tells me her bedroom is a realm beyond dream,

but it looks like a 20 year old girl’s room to me.

 

The room low-lit, tapestry walls and tie-dye blankets.

A bookshelf full of my favorite authors.

Trance throbbing from her speakers.

Sandalwood incense in my nose and eyes.

 

The girl wears her hair in an untidy ponytail,

it’s dark brown with a scarlet streak.

Her eyes hazel and serious.

She wears many earthy necklaces.

 

“My father was Cherokee,” she offers

“He was killed in a car accident.”   

 

She says she knows all about me,

has been watching me,

wants to take care of me.

She cradles me in her arms on the floor.

 

When I insist I must leave she pleads:

“You can’t be as happy awake now that you’ve met me.”

I pull away and head for the door.

But before I open it I turn—“What is your name?”

 

“My name is ****. You will come back to me.”

I open the door and awaken.

But life is dull and does not make sense—

as it did when I was with her.

 

Try as I might I cannot remember her name while awake.

This fact reduces me to tears.

She is all I can think about.

The girl with the serious eyes consumes me.

 

Another night I return to her in dream.

She is delighted and smug.

I bask in her presence, drink in her essence.

She is my drug of choice and sustains my high.

 

When it’s time to leave she is saddened,

But far too solemn to pout.

Her mouth a grim line I taste her lips

then head out the door.

 

The waking world is even more tedious.

I think about her all the time.

I’ll see her out the sides of my eyes—

at work, visiting my parents, on the sidewalk.

 

I meet with her in dream again.

She embraces me and tells me she has secrets to share.

She confides that she would like to exist in my world,

and could she please use my body as means to travel.

 

But I’ve already decided that I must end our affair.

She ruins my waking life.

I want to cut off contact.

I will not let her come to my world.

 

The girl with the serious eyes simmers, then boils.

She throws a burning candle at me.

“You ungrateful b***h!

I’ve made your pathetic life magical, you owe me!”

 

She rushes toward me,

her hands outstretched.

She forces herself into my mind and I realize…

all along she has been a witch.

 

I now stagger through the waking realm in a daze.

She is always with me and saps my energy.

No longer providing a high or a sense of comfort.

I only think of her to curse her.

 

She pulled me out of a nightmare and into a worse one.

Author's Note

I'd like to re-write this at some point. Would it work better as a story? If I keep it as a poem should I add rhyme and alliteration?

Reviews

[poddar kushal]

it is stunning allright

[J-Boo]

I agree, I think it would probably be best in short story format. Very nice , thought - creepy dream! A bit worse htan having to pick up pills all over the floor...

[Legion]

I think this probably would work better as a story. The poem is okay, but there is so much more you can do in story format. I like the concept either way though.