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I dreamed I woke up.
In this waking life my thoughts
are agate points and deep lagoons
that make ancient cities and heroes
and bust dakinis out of lunch boxes.
Everything is alive when I am awake.
I remember to swim in air
and fly in water, and ride moon-tigers
to the Moon Cafe, and the light in my head
is the light of the blue-white star.
I went back to sleep in a world
of fewer voices and more noise. Out here
in mossy woods, sleep life is pleasant.
It's good to watch a cedar shake her frills,
good to be surprised by lime on watermelon.
There are days I don't want to wake up.
Then there are days of pain and lost delight,
city days caught in time and trivial stories
when I forget that I am asleep
and can change the game if I awaken.
I cannot say whether the person writing this
is asleep in the world, or awake in the dream.
In this waking life my thoughts
are agate points and deep lagoons
that make ancient cities and heroes
and bust dakinis out of lunch boxes.
Everything is alive when I am awake.
I remember to swim in air
and fly in water, and ride moon-tigers
to the Moon Cafe, and the light in my head
is the light of the blue-white star.
I went back to sleep in a world
of fewer voices and more noise. Out here
in mossy woods, sleep life is pleasant.
It's good to watch a cedar shake her frills,
good to be surprised by lime on watermelon.
There are days I don't want to wake up.
Then there are days of pain and lost delight,
city days caught in time and trivial stories
when I forget that I am asleep
and can change the game if I awaken.
I cannot say whether the person writing this
is asleep in the world, or awake in the dream.
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The photo is of the yurt at Mosswood Hollow, the magical retreat center in the woods near Seattle where I wrote this poem and often lead advanced programs.
Ah... this fondly takes me back to my first visit to the magic Hollow, where the first dream I recorded in my first journal for many years was one in which... I dreamed I woke up :-). Having woken up (and fallen into a slumber...) many times since then, it's lovely to hear the words again with more knowing (and a deeper un-knowing). Thank you for the memories of summer cedar and lime on this blustery fall day!
ReplyDeleteImagine action
ReplyDeleteWalking the labyrinth one day with a difficult memory to process, a little chant came into my head that was taught to me at another time and another place.
ReplyDeleteSpiraling into the centre
The centre of the shield.
Spiraling into the centre
The centre of the shield.
I am the weaver
I am the woven one
I am the dreamer
I am the dreamed.
The attitude to the difficult memory had changed by the time I stepped out of the Labyrinth.
Being in both worlds can be a healing place.
Patricia from Oz
Hi Savannah - Yes, Mosswood is a wonderful place to wake up and dream.
ReplyDelete