Narrator: Welcome!
Let me take your hand as I guide you through these dreamscapes and heartbreaks!
Who am I?
I am the Narrator.
The logic and reason that states the true facts of the matter!
I promise I am not a sociopathic liar.
Honest!
The Dream chapters are written by the Dreamer.
They tell the story of the Dreamer.
The Dreamer cannot be trusted.
The Dreamer cannot tell the difference between fact and fiction.
And the love poetry is presented by the Poet.
The Poet is a hopeless romantic.
Fact is fiction to him.
Now tread carefully!
This heart is a minefield…

My dreams are tormenting me… I dreamt about her again last night. These are not ordinary dreams. When I awake from these dreams I feel like I am going to sleep inside the dream, so I am never fully sure whether I have woken up or fallen asleep. This could be a dream. I have dreamt before that I have written things only to find later that it never actually happened. It did happen, it just wasn’t tangible.

She was leaving on a rocket ship to another planet, it seemed preposterous, but then again it was the futuristic world of the 21st century. Maybe I had dreamt of a world in which technology had never progressed past airplane travel, a world like the one I find myself in now. In the ‘dream’ I knew she was leaving and I wanted to stop her, I wanted to tell her something I could never say in this world or the dreamscape in which I found myself. Just as I arrived, her ship took off and I found out the truth. She wasn’t going to another planet; she was going to the moon on a one way trip. A legal form of suicide in this dreamscape was to pay for a shuttle ride to the moon. The shuttle impacts with the moon and you are cremated amongst moon dust in a spectacular and beautiful explosion. You become part of the celestial body which haunts our planet.

The shuttle was lifting off, and it was still in the earth’s atmosphere. It was the futuristic world of 201x and so I had access to a vehicle that could fly. I was manic. I had to stop her. I chased after the shuttle and I quickly closed in on it. Within minutes the shuttle would be beyond my reach, and so I impetuously crashed my vehicle into the side of the shuttle. The shuttle was still reaching higher into the heavens, and with each knock of my vehicle into it, the shuttle was going off course. With the trajectory changed, the shuttle automatically began to make its journey back to earth intact. It was built with this foolproof feature to make sure that the shuttle would never accidentally veer off course and crash back down onto the earth.
I followed the shuttle back down to earth. It landed in a woody forest area, and I landed nearby. I got out of my vehicle and I ran to the shuttle. She had already exited the vehicle and came running to me. We embraced. I looked at her face and realised that I knew her from the world in which I type this. A former lover haunting my dreams…

We talked, we walked, we spent time together in the woody forest, and I was happy. I felt the warmth from her flesh, the softness of her skin, and the radiance of her smile. Eventually I became overwhelmed with the urge to sleep, and so I slept… only to awaken in this world… alone, but still high from the happiness I felt. I got out of bed feeling like I could do anything, but then it slowly dawned on me that everything I wanted was in a dreamscape, another world, and not the one where I reside. A former lover haunting my dreams, giving me everything I could ever want, but nothing that I could ever touch.
My dreams are tormenting me, in this world, and the other.

Narrator: Have you ever woken up to find someone in your room, and then to wake up again to realise you heard them in the other room with other people, and then you wake up again to realise no one is in the other room, and then you bump into the person in the kitchen and say
“Oh, I thought I must have heard you,
I had a crazy pile of waking up dreams with you in it.”
And then you wake up again?

Anyway… moving on.
Next we have the Poet presenting a poetrical interpretation.
If you are wondering what poetrical means, don’t worry.
I have made it up.
And how about you define the meaning of the word?
It makes a change from just learning words from others.
By the way, how often do you contribute to your own language?
Or are you just a no good user?

It’s called love poetry, but it hurts…

Life Subjectively

We each have our own individual story
Our bodies serve as a memento mori
Life begins and ends in the blink of an eye
But no one ever truly dies

We each breathe the same air
We all feel love when we choose to care
So different yet so same
Same stories just a different name

You say that you do not know me
I have my own unique story
People live life subjectively
And yes you do not know me
But you know anger, excitement, grief, love, and ecstasy

Unique, yet we all feel the emotions
Innumerable, the emotions are an ocean
We create entertainment to evoke the feel
But it is we who are not real
It is what we feel which is the reality
Because the emotions live on beyond our mortality

Narrator: The difference of life and death is paramount in this dream.
Even though the dreamer was just dreaming, the difference between life and death was still the same.
How real are your dreams?
How real is your life?

And I

And the truth is I love you
And I’m awfully afraid
And I find it overwhelming
And I don’t know what to do
And I don’t know what to say
I’ve never felt this way before
And I never feel like I deserve you
You are beautiful in everything you do
And I’m just a good for nothing dreamer
And I want to be more for you
And I
But what about you?

Narrator: Here is reflected the one-sidedness of the dream.
Perhaps the Dreamer is always limited in perception.
The Dreamer can never really know what the people who populate the dream world are thinking, and of course the Dreamer is always likely to get caught up in their own dream; never questioning the wants or needs of those that they dream.

Cottage cheese dreams

Cottage cheese dreams are fantastical things

Narrator: And a confession… how poetrical!

To be continued...

@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Lover

Previously
The Dream Before the First Dream