Archive - Mar 8, 2015

Death, Dreams, and Poetry

I’ve been having a lot of strange dreams recently, and have remembered enough of a few of them to write parts of them in the morning. Last Monday, I had one that was particularly striking.

The scene shifts to a man going out on a boat during a storm. He has four objects, including, four donuts, some sort of statue wrapped in black to throw overboard, and two other objects which I don’t know what they are. Later, the man, and his aunt are washed ashore. He was not able to throw the object overboard and did not eat the donuts. They have drowned and the whole dreams moves into a mournful wake.

A had a very strong reaction to this dream fragment, a sense of loss and a calling to reconnect with distant family members. I only have one remaining uncle, and two remaining aunts, and I haven’t been in touch with my uncle and his family in decades. Was this some sort of message to reach out to them?

I tried to track them down online, and sent off an email to a possible relative who might be able to help me get in touch with them.

Recently, my cousin died, and it turns out her memorial service was the day after I had that dream. I’ve slowly gotten bits of information. Perhaps that fed into my dream, but I haven’t figured much more.

Today, two more friends posted obituaries on Facebook.

Meanwhile, I continue to post a poem a day for Lent. There are times that it is a struggle to put together my thoughts and words. Other times, it feels like they come too quickly, too easily.

I’m thinking a lot about poetry as a tool to help people look at life differently. I think about it in terms of political discourse and all the hatred online. Since everything I do is tied to my religious and political beliefs, I suspect all my poems carry some of this to varying levels.

Today, a friend shared a poem on Facebook, and pointed to others sharing poems. Perhaps we can get more poetry shared online. I also got an indirect message from my father about one of my poems. He, and a friend both liked the poem which referenced times we had canoed together.

Now, my poem for the day is written. I’ve done some reading and shortly will head off to sleep to see what other dreams come, and then, tomorrow, to see if others have posted of death, dreams, or poetry online.

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Background Music

In a crowded café
a struggling young musician
tries to be heard
above the din;
the clink of plates and dishes
and the excited talk of the patrons.

It’s a fundraiser
for a local charity
which seeks to care
for the downtrodden.

Even the dress she is wearing,
hand made by a talented aunt
will be auctioned off.

The attendees
are so busy doing good
that they don’t even notice
the beautiful poignancy of her song,

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