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Prophetical Dreams
Prophetical Dreams
I
In one dream, I can’t see things
in colour,
only in black and white,
with shades of grey.
When I focus my eyes on the environment,
it looks like it is being filmed on an 8mm camera,
dusty grain appearances.
I begin to walk.
The paths are paved with cobble stones
and I can hear my shoes clicking on the ground
with each step.
The sun is out and shining,
with warm heat,
and I start perspiring after only a
few moments.
So I stop
and reach into one of my pockets
to grab a handkerchief
to wipe my forehead.
As I’m wiping
I’m still looking around,
dazed by everything. I notice that
I can still see the rich hues and mandala’s
of the city
even though they are not there.
I fix my gaze a little lower
and spy young girl
sitting on a park bench
crying,
a boy sitting beside her
screaming,
with full fury and rage.
He is calling her a whore, he never wanted her
and now he is stuck with her
for the rest of his life.
She just stares down at her hands,
gripping her lap,
and does not respond.
This enrages him further
and he hits critical mass,
and explodes,
jumping to his feet,
slaps her with all of his strength,
and knocks her off the park bench
onto the ground.
He walks off and I just stare.
I cannot take my eyes off of the girl.
I cannot ever remember seeing something that still and silent.
I want to help her, but
I don’t know what to do,
I don’t know what to say,
I can’t do anything to help her.
The only thing that I could do was
to wish for her salvation.
II
The second dream scared me.
All around the world I looked, everything was drowning
in colour. It was thick,
like a blood that was seeping out
from an open wound.
I was too afraid to touch
anything, because it looked like it
would explode.
I begin to tread carefully.
The paths are still cobblestones, but when my feet
kissed the ground, the sound was somewhat, puddled, yeah,
I guess puddled is the right word for it.
I cant explain it any other way.
The sun is burning, and the sky dripped into the horizon,
buildings bobbed in pavements like toy boats,
and the trees faded as the wind took parts of them away.
The people I cross paths with are many.
This great gathering of people,
as if the whole world decided to show up.
Have you ever stared at a mannequins face?
It’s interesting, you see, they are devoid of gaze and expression,
and soul. Yes they are lifeless,
but have you ever thought truly how lifeless that is?
They are designed to look like us.
You see, you get it?
There’s the irony.
I wade through a sea of lifeless faces,
each one scaring me.
And in the corner of my eye,
so distant it was and yet I could still make out the girl,
the girl sitting on the same park bench. Again
I stare, and feel a pang of love for the girl as she sits
in this calm serenity,
except still with the burden of the world.
She is pregnant, looks like ninth month,
or there about’s.
The boy isn’t there, funny that.
She is beautiful like a, like a,
like an embrace of water that you can never swim out of.
She sits so still that it makes me think,
think that I have never seen a stillness that still in my life.
She is beautiful,
and I want to keep her beautiful for the rest of her life.
I want to love her with the purity that I had wished for
her
-I want to give her, immortality.
III
In my last dream,
everything is this charcoal black,
like when you burn a match stick right down
to the very end,
it’s that black.
Yeah, it’s all just a thick forest
of burnt match sticks.
The land, and sea, and sky, they all looked like
defiled nuns with their purity stripped
and torn out of them,
graven expressions on their face’s,
the epitome of sorrow.
I walk amongst the ruins with this angelic light enveloping me,
eyes held wide open, surveying the complete desolation
of all I ever knew.
I see bodies, all these fucking bodies,
blended into buildings, sidewalks, cars…fucking everywhere,
all these fucking bodies, these hollowed out
fucking bodies.
I was walking the deck of the Ancient Marnier’s ship,
with all these melting faces, frozen in time, just staring at me.
The silence one would expect
in a decimated city
is non existent,
it is instead a cacophony
of rapid breath’s escaping my own body,
and the snapping of human bones like twigs
every time I place my foot upon the ground.
And as I walk a city newly remade into a memory,
I come across the young girl holding her child,
incinerated to ash and cinder.
The manner in which she held the child,
looked like she was trying to protect it.
She was completely fucked, knew it, and yet,
she still tried to protect her child.
I have never witnessed in my life a stillness that still.
They were beautiful.
And I fall down to my knees,
down into the rubble,
and I bury my head into my arms and cry,
I cry so fucking hard.
Because someone up there heard me,
they listened to me,
they understood me,
and in one fell swoop,
they granted
all of my wishes.
