Dream time by
25
(27 Stories)

Prompted By Dreams

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Awaken to the Dream

Long before we are

birthed to this life,

to these bodies, 

someone dreams us

into existence.

These ethereal threads

that are woven

throughout our life

hold the patterns, 

warp and weave

of the holy meaning to

our days and nights.

When the sacred spinning,

the endless calling that 

finally finds voice

in these magical

colorful carpets 

of past and future,

finally find’s our 

ear’s silent and still heart,

the awakening to the dream

brings full moments 

of fulfillment.

Heavy beats of the clock

then encompass the no time

of standing in the shining role

we are born to:

to be completely, 

entirely,

wholly, 

ourselves.

 

 

 

 

Speak My Dreams

I speak my dreams and in

The saying of them

While still groggy with sleep

I often know

What each symbol 

Relates to in my waking mind

He reminds me that it 

Is OK to stay in process

To not seek to analyze

Or wrap up the mystery

In a package of “I know”

As it is in the “unknowing”

That the space abides

For the deepest living

Of the 

Delicious

Often achingly

Beautiful

Incredibly powerful

unfolding moment

 

 

My Dreaming Babe

Now that you’re sleeping…

An angelic glow surrounds your tiny face

All traces of mischief and orneriness vanish

The tiny creases of concentration and anxiety relax

Into mere memories of lines

Your eyelashes lengthen to an almost absurd length

And the pout of your tiny mouth is irresistible,

A dream smile tugging at the corners

The sweetness of this small respite in your abundant energy,

Your push to learn, observe, touch, taste, and try,

Temporarily put on hold for such a short time

As your body dictates

Oh God, what beauty on your face-

I almost wake you as I bend to kiss 

My dreamin’ babe

 

 

Armageddon

I dreamed about Armageddon last night.

It started as a bad storm, 

like the movies

the sky was dark,

the wind and water grew 

to a terrifying velocity

electricity filled the air with sharp cracks of thunder

pierced by sharped-tounged lightning 

that exploded blindingly on the ground

in the dream I could smell

an acute acrid odor 

that burned the nostrils and

informed those still alive–

                   there was no escape.

I wound up in a dark shelter with people I didn’t know

from all different cultures, languages and viewpoints

I tried to comfort in that mom-forehead-stroking way

but one bedraggled man I was reaching toward 

had lost everything, 

                                      everyone

and his eyes reflected no desire for life.

Then a small boy was pounding at the portal to the humid room

where we all huddled.

He simply crawled up next to the man,

the man’s arms wrapped around the boy without words

and tears streamed down

the man’s haunted, shadowed face

for his loss, 

and the boy’s.

I moved on to tend others who feared

                     what might come next.

 

 

 

Dream of Awakening

I dreamed last night

that I was attempting

to explain 

to a young teacher

how a child

begins to put the world together 

We were standing by a bush

I asked her to sense

the outer boundaries

of leaf,

branch

root 

spaces between

fragrance

warmth

relationship

to insect

air

sun

earth

us

This led to

the miracle

of sight

and how it blinds us

the miracle of sound

and how it can keep us from

hearing the heart of 

what is being communicated

the miracle of breath

and how we exchange

it,

the miracle of touch

and how we must 

screen out

and focus attention

in order to go 

beyond perception

to understanding

over and over again

as we expand

and contract

taking in 

what feels new

and sorting, 

comparing,

sifting, 

and finding a place for the new to fit,

or more, 

to fill the spaces 

where losing understanding

may leave giant gaping holes

It was beyond beautiful.

I awoke to this wondrous world,

watching, smelling, tasting, hearing

touching, sensing

cold air on my face

birds in trees,

ocean waves crashing,

people in cars,

the hunger in my belly,

the tears in my eyes

the joyful yearning

I remembered,

once again, 

how our unique 

existence in our own 

perceptions of  the planet

is a rare and precious thing

I am trying to hold onto that

in these words-

trying to offer that 

to those who want to

remember too.

Profile photo of January Handl January Handl


Comments

  1. Suzy says:

    January, you have given us the amazing gift of five poems here. I don’t even know what to say, they are all so beautiful, except thank you. Thank you for sharing your dream poems with us!

  2. “Someone dreams us into existence,” “awakening to the dream,” and “it is in the unknowing that the space abides for the deepest living” jumped out and into me. Is that a photo of your own sleeping child? I remember that feeling. Your poetry is full of shimmering yet common threads that unite us, each one of us, in the full breadth of experience. I want to remember, too, January…thank you for reminding me!

  3. Laurie Levy says:

    January, these are amazing! Thank you for sharing them. The image and the first poem really resonated with me. The perfectly innocent, beautiful child and the notion of being born as our own unique person. My Dreaming Babe perfectly captures how I felt as a mother and grandmother. I see from the comment above that this is a picture of your grandson, How precious. Armageddon moved me to tears. If I were still a preschool director, I would ask all my staff to read Dream of Awakening to reinforce the importance of focusing on each child’s unique development rather than on rote learning of facts.

    • Wow Laurie, thank you so much. Children have given me so many poems! By being, becoming and joining the struggle and joy of life as themselves. I feel honored, especially as a fellow preschool teacher (in the past)that you understood my dream with the young teacher! Sending love and gratitude.❤️🙏🏼🥰

  4. Betsy Pfau says:

    Such beauty and diversity. Life and catastrophe. Universal themes. The picture of the innocent baby and two poems, one about dreaming a baby into existence, the other about watching a sleeping baby particularly resonated for me at this particular moment (we all experience poetry in our way, at certain points in our lives), as my younger child, once such a beautiful baby, now struggles in isolation with mental health issues and I am so frightened for her. We had a harrowing conversation two nights ago, I reassured her that I’ve always loved her and always will, as she wept. And all I could think about was my beautiful baby, and the peace of mind that came from knowing when she was safe in her crib, not quarantined alone in an apartment 2,700 miles away from me.

    The beauty of your imagery comforts me.

    • Oh Betsy, I was moved to tears by your response. As mamas we never stop being both terrified and thrilled by our kids, though the layers of your story, including our current global situation wrenched me. Blessings upon her struggles, and your critical message of unending love.
      No greater gift than to think our words offer a moment of comfort🥰🙏🏼🦋

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