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Amber posted a video today discussing a painting she did based on a dream. It made me think of this poem that I wrote 20 years ago when I was 16. It was based on a dream I had, or multiple smaller dreams that I conflated as one. Either way I can still picture what each part was about. It started off with these characters dancing around a bonfire outside, but everything was somewhat 2D. Funny that Amber mentioned her dream being partially stop motion-esque. Mine wasn't quite "stop motion" but slightly less than smooth because the characters kind of looked like those paper dolls, a bit more like puppets, that have movable joints. Like brass fasteners where their joints are so they can move, but they're still flat. Most of my poem was just collecting things I'd seen without much interpretation. The big scene change comes at the orange light. I was inside for this part, and it was definitely night time but there was this intense orange light pouring into the house or apartment I was in. I saw what I presumed was a man, asleep in bed, but never saw his face. I feel like there was a storm outside (maybe a continuation of the storm that began in the first stanza?) and at some point the man raised both arms up kind of Frankenstein's monster-like. And then, while I was watching this or right after, rain started falling on my hand but instead of water it was... You know those little magnetic sculpture kits made out of tiny metal pieces on a base? Those. The little metal moons. And like I wrote, they were cold metal but stung as they stuck into my hand. I can't picture the "stained glass window" anymore but I believe it was above the mystery man's bed. This always felt meaningful somehow, but I have yet to prove it.
The Dance
Sexy skeleton playin' the bass
mindless mushroom without a face
withered pumpkin, dance to the drum
smoke seeps quite softly from bottles of rum
Woman plays banjo, closes an eye
clouds hurry over as rain leaves the sky
catching the raindrops, my bucket is full
I throw it aside and give in to your pull
Dance doesn't cease though the fire's burnt out
it's been way too long since the start of the drought
no one unhappy, the angels exhale
my baby is laughing though strikingly pale
Orange encompasses incoming light
man raises arms in the middle of night
moons fall like water, and piercing my hand
cold to the touch but feel hot as they brand
Windows of stained glass make no sense to me
give me your arm and write down what you see
I can't remember, my love is asleep
the place where he lay is a secret I keep
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