I don’t like dreaming. When dreams come on, it’s like being possessed – it’s like something’s pushing my body into the bed and all my muscles tense up. I had a metadream last night. I saw myself standing in the dark with milk and blood streaming out of my eye sockets – it scared me. So much so that in my dream, I thought I was dreaming, so I woke from the image and went to a dream interpreter.

The interpreter looked like a gypsy woman in a dark tent-like space, and I thought, she looks like a credible version of Miss Cleo. I took her very seriously, and before I said a word to her, she said to me, “You have this ability to milk the real person out of those you meet. You really see those you meet for who they are.” In my mind, the words ‘milk’ and ‘see’ stood out. It’s like she knew exactly what I just dreamed and told my fortune accordingly. Shit! I was impressed. I don’t think I was aware that she was a part of the dream too.

Second dream: I’m a bodyguard, working with these burly black guys. In my dream, I know that I’m a big, 6’6”, 250# bouncer also. We’re at the beach and I have to catch a taxi to a strip club to protect a client there, then come back later. The other guards are all wearing suits and dark glasses. I get into a taxi and watch the beach go by. I’m thinking, damn, I’m not gonna be back ‘til late, and it feels like I’m at the start of a long day of work.

three visions:

my mother,
bounding through the house
like a child;
a screaming ghost on a leash.
she jumps up for an embrace,
but won't stay long enough to receive one.

we swam in the sea,
pages of poetry floating
on the surface of a dead black pool.
words running,

and my lover,
boasting of yet another sexual conquest:
"She taught me how to do it in a theater."
he twirls his tail, grinning,
and I'm speechless.
I don't think he realizes who I am.

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