Three Different Ways:
Dreams, Madness, and Myths
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Dream Journal: 2017-06-22.01
I wandered through rocky hills, past outcrops of bedrock worn smooth by wind and made brittle by wildfires. The wind suddenly collected a pile of dead brown leaves at my feet. As I watched the swirling, I realized the wind had collected more than tinder. I reached into the pile and pulled out something both…
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Dream Journal: 2017-06-13.01
I woke up. The old quilt was comfortably heavy upon me and held me gently in the straw stuffed bed. I could see where the pitch had become thin between the boards of the rough cottage. Dried and drying flowers hung in bunches above me. A bee was trying to coax the last memory of…
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Dream Journal: 2017-06-07.01
The news report said to avoid downtown, so why is everyone headed that way? I changed channel on the radio trying to find something other than the same news feed repeated on every interrupted station. I had someplace to be, and the only way to get there was straight through downtown so whatever was in…
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Dream Journal: 2017-05-31.01
The ceiling split and crumbled away in defiance of gravity as the light solidified and fell as dust on my waking face. I mumbled something akin to “da fuq” as a figure shrouded with the darkness that scares underbed monsters descended to hover over me. It lifted its face revealing a time stained skull devoid of…
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Spirit Journal: 2017-05-29.01
It has been about two months since I last saw anything from the hillside spirit I zoom past to and from work. I had mentioned to others that it felt like a door was gradually closing starting last fall when the harvesting of the fields around the hill was at its peak.
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Dream Journal: 2017-05-17.01
The unyielding floor boards pressed into my knees, alerting me that I was not in my room anymore. My black feather cloak moved with my hands as I brushed my fingers over the worn blemished wood. A series of small bright flares caught my attention, and without looking up I knew I was surrounded by a…
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Dream Journal: 2017-05-15.01
Can’t a body get some rest? Here I am, sitting on some rocks on the side of a mountain. It’s just before dawn. It’s just after sunset. It’s the height of noon. It’s the dead of night. Where and when I am doesn’t matter. The only thing that is important here is that I am…
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Dream Journal: 2017-05-07.01
I knew some type of precipitation was going to roll in this weekend, but I expected the usual failed promises from the meteorologists. Instead, I received the opposite, with a vigorous storm rolling over everyone’s exposed wood dash convertibles and unsealed wicker furniture. Pareidolia had me seeing canine imagery in the quickly moving clouds this time instead…
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Spirit Journal: 2017-05-06.01
A Catholic friend and I often have conversations about her faith and my lack. Neither one seeks or even wants to convert the other, but the space between us is an accepting one and she knows she can air out her doubts without condemnation for or against from me. Our most common reply to each other…
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Spirit Journal: 2017-05-05.01
The clouds looked brushed across the morning sky as if by a great hand with greater sweeps. I thought nothing of them as I merged onto the freeway on my way to work. An idle brain does idle things, and clouds were made for wishes anyway, so no wonder I started to see patterns in…
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