Recurring Dream

A sequence of images produced by the brain
When I sleep, they’re always the same
A false memory of sorts, of things that can’t truly be
The dialogue always starts with me.

“Excuse me, is this a joke?” I grab a passerby
“Why doesn’t anybody realize I’m here?”
My surroundings become oppressive with fear

Confused his face becomes contorted
He never says anything but I always understand
I’ve passed on, and what I’ve requested, was a strange demand

I look around wildly
Try and make out any familiar faces
Only to realize it’s been ages

What year is it? Why am I running?
I feel so lost
And then – permafrost

Where am I?
There are no colors, just a town
Everything looks filtered through brown

I’m following someone, into a chapel?
It’s a girl I think, turn around turn around
And as her hair begins to uncover her face
I feel an impending death

Hers or mine?
I do not know, then –

I wake up.
Who was she?

© Luis Valencia

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About luisydomonique

Poetry Year Long Project between Luis Valencia and the Brilliant, Beautiful, and Vivace Domonique Celeste Alcaraz.
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2 Responses to Recurring Dream

  1. Jingle says:

    a dream?

    well delivered piece.
    Glad to see you new post.

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