Some dreams don’t matter
Beyond the skewed beauty of their inspiration
Maybe that’s why we don’t remember them
Like some midnight story
But catch fragments
When the light is just so
Memorable
Or something
That brings us back to some impossibility
That made sense in the context of
Insensate dreaming
When surrender was a condition
Of being
Where veils become wings
Walls turn into doorways that give way
To freefall diving
Wind riding
And you are conscious of
Being there and not there
In that place where matter
Doesn’t
David Trudel © 2013
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