What Kind of Dreams

The child was reluctant, obstructive, rudely derogated the rules of night-time. In return, the mothers smile crusted over; her anticipating face raged with love, with tenderness, with necessity.

Hold back desperation: “Shall I read you a story?” Yes, a boring story, a story to bore your little eyes closed and your little head droopy and your little snores out.

All children learn to say no and this one was a champion already. Still gentle and formless it was not quite male, not quite female. It was androgynous, sexless, precocious with the possibilities of a gender unslated -- as if pigeon-holes could be sated at a later date. A choice depending on pointing out a celebrity from a picture in a magazine, and saying: ‘that one’.

“I don’t want to be in bed.”

This was said from bed, defiant, huddled and muddled within the pastry of the sheets and wriggling like a still-living filling. Four-and-twenty blackbirds, all singing.

Isn’t this a pretty dish thought mother.

“But bed is good,” she reasoned, “bed is a fine fine thing to be in.” She eyed it herself, covetously, the crispness of the linen holding the warm buttered biscuit smell of a child’s hair.

“Bed isn’t good. It’s lonely.”

Yes, lonely, sang the mother to herself, alone to be with myself only. Swaying with sleeplessness, mother’s voice burst with secrets.

“Bed is good. It is. It is where you were made.”

And you, child, are a good thing. Making you was good. Therefore beds are good.

Mother blinked dreamily, lies rushing unbidden to fill the gap between a child's world and the truth; the question came immediately.

“Have you ever seen someone making a pot out of clay?” she asked in response. Her arms raised in front of the child’s face. “Have you ever seen the clay sculpted, squeezed?” Then she lowered them. “And this was the oven. This is where you were baked.”

She wondered what kind of dreams these lies would bring, dreams of whispered fertility, Freudian dreams of plumbers removing bottoms and widdlers. Dreams of children baked out of clay and, rocked from the cradle; falling, smashing.

Reviews

[VennelaMargame]

The phrasing is very nice, and I do like the final image - it's concise, but practical and it works with the rest of the piece. My concern is describing the mothers face like a moon and hair like a sunset. It's just a very familiar trope, and loses power for that reason.

[TLK]

Agreed. However, I wanted the imagery to conspire in her sleepiness, unguardedness, and lack of power. Finally, I though it a nice childish touch.

So, there are reasons for it being weak and crappy. (Which is what I tell people about all my weak and crappy writing!).

[Chris]

the only hit to me was "it's boring" - that didn't fir with a child being read to- in my mind and thereafter the sense of flow to me was lost. Just me I guess.

[TLK]

I'm a teacher. Children learn what boring is from a very young age (it's not being able to play with your smartphone).

[Chris]

Chuckling here... good one that.

[Seamstress]

Interesting is all I can say. I can not see a mother really using this as an explanation of why being in bed is good for a child but then again I'm not yet a mother.

[TLK]

I think this mother is very logical. Perhaps she is a philosophy professor.

[Seamstress]

Alright, simple enough explanation.

[Emily B]

Ken Simm has a series of confounded letters, like this, they look like stories, but they are all poetry. You have an amazing voice.

[TLK]

I wish it was coarser, louder, and more of a bark: I'm a teacher by day.

[Emily B]

there is an edge, nails screeching on a blackboard when mum says you were made in a bed, it seems so incongruous with the age of the child, that is when the true reflection of the scene seems to shine through

and when you think about motherhood, take me for example, i have failed at my most important mission three times so far, i cannot say i was a successful mother. I've barely survived the last year. My brood will never look back on their childhoods as adults and say 'i had a great mom'. We work all day and have to deal with these short, stubborn people when we are tired and alone. It is so easy to cross those lines into inappropriate.

[TLK]

I think all responsibility must slide into incongruity some of the time. Who can attempt to both control themselves and also others and always be successful?

We are all short, stubborn people at heart.

[Emily B]

yes, truly

[Pax]

all i could say that i love prose poetry...for some they called it prosetry...its were i started making stories... this is really a nice tale...

[TLK]

Thank you for your kind words. I wish I was called 'prosetry' too, sometimes.

[Chance]

I enjoyed reading this and will comeback to read more. I like the style and will read up on It.

[TLK]

Thank you for alerting me to your enjoyment, it always makes me happy to have pleased a reader.
read moreThank you for alerting me to your enjoyment, it always makes me happy to have pleased a reader.

This is called 'prose poetry' and here are some links if you want to read more:

http://www.poetrypreviews.com/poets/prosepoem.html
http://webdelsol.com/tpp/t-su97re.htm
http://webdelsol.com/tpp/t-su97dl.htm
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16054
http://webdelsol.com/tpp/tpp5/tpp5_johnsonintro.html

[Chance]

I will read some at lunch today. Don't know what to call what I write other than a hot mess. Thanks for the links!

[TLK]

"Hot mess"? Sounds like a decent kedgeree. I'll definitely be taking a look.

[SHEEMA HUQ]

what kind of dreams: a semi-conscious ramble perhaps? forgive me if I don't fully fathom...there is a bbc radio 4 /3 quality to this prose, fascinating the multiple thoughts that enter this woman's mind while she maintains her mothering responsibilites.....will have to return and read others soon, thanx

[TLK]

Thank you for being fascinated even if it was not directly fathomable.

[JuniperPearl]

I have to say, what I enjoyed most was the line "A choice depending on pointing out a celebrity from a picture in a magazine, and saying: ‘that one’." I say this because this poem could have been written for any number of time periods, but this gave the reader immediate context into present society and it's over emphasis on the importance of fake 'beauty'. Additionally, I enjoyed the entire segment that that line was in as well for it's ability to really highly the androgynous quality of little children that is so easily overlooked by the parents in their attempt to thrust their notions of masculinity or femininity onto the children.

I felt as thought the mother blurting out that the child was made in the bed felt a tad forced and unnatural, but I do think it went well with the overall point / message of the piece.

Overall, I enjoyed it.

[TLK]

I apologise for not having commented on your excellent review earlier! I was probably so pleased by your reading of it I simply forgot to do so. There is indeed a dark underbelly of the sexualisation of children being raised here, and I am glad you were sensitive to it.

I agree with your criticism that the mother blurts it out a bit unnaturally. I guess she's just that tired her brain isn't working properly.

[Leslie Philibert]

I think this is very good, full of original thoughts, based on a fine idea, with a rich, unusual language, I really like bottoms and widdlers. The theme is great too, a look at phony descriptions of sexuality that we force on children. Just one small point, I would delete the last phrase of the second line, which is more or less a repeat, but apart from that this is a fine write.

[TLK]

Heh, yeah, I should have re-read it more thoroughly. Edit made now.

The bottoms and widdlers comes from Freud: http://www.holah.karoo.net/freudstudy.htm

[Rebecca A Kinman]

Loved the line about "beds are good.."

amazing imagery at the end. as a mother i can surely relate to this piece.