The Dream

THE DREAM

The best part is waking up 

to discover you aren’t trapped 

anymore in a world that doesn’t 

make sense, the thin, shifty one dense

with inconsistencies where you know

you must keep running but can’t say 

why, and hard as you try 

your legs rebel against you 

to sludge at their own, methodical pace,

and there’s something of immense 

importance that absolutely must be said

but even your kin and closest friends

tilt their heads when you try to say it

and your thick tongue tumbles out

some ancient babble you’ve both long-since

forgotten how to interpret,

and suddenly you feel exposed, 

unclothed, and they’re all laughing at you 

but the thing is still coming

and the thing must absolutely still be said 

so you muster all of yourself 

for one last, unreasonable push,

muscles tensing as you jolt in bed, 

             sweating and out of breath 

as the sun breaks the horizon 

             and light clarifies the questions. 

This, at least, is how I imagine

             it will be. Lord, come shake me.