The power of dreams |
Dissolved Surrealism When I awoke this morning, Sleep hung heavy upon my shoulders. Pain and joy and rage and love Rested in the chains of surreality I was bound in. Such emotion and torment! I was stirred into a melting pot Of memories, dying in deep pools of Déjà vu dreams. I half woke, the beauty of the dreams Still evanescing softly, indecipherably, from my Pallid lips. My eyelids peeled back to receive the Grey morning, and observe lucidity’s flimsiness. Faintly, but increasingly, my senses opened. I felt the rain cascading outside, each Droplet roaring with Aquatic wrath, pounding and sizzling Against my eardrums. It was water that Liberated me from the scorpion sting Of those dreams, heavy and confining. I fought against the bittersweet clutch, Images that I both hated and loved, Knew I had to turn away But couldn’t. my eyelids fluttered, lifted and dropped, Then opened wide with relief, as I saw reality. It was at that exact moment, When a single view of the ceiling, complete with cracks, Saved me from that venomous pit Deep in my subconscious mind. In my dreams there was too much Beauty, and such an excessive Quantity of longing that I felt As if my heart had shattered like a glass ball. It was too thick, unbearable, agonizing. And I never knew that beauty is the sharpest Knife, that it cuts like broken glass. |