Ropes (the long poem)

There is a line in the sand I cannot cross,
Drawn so long ago.
There’s a million fears I cannot touch,
Steeped in crimson woe.

My fortress became a prison,
I hold the only key.
The door stands wide open,
But I have fears controlling me.

Facing the demons,
The haunt of the past,
The night of no endings,
The dawn has been cast.
Rumbles of thunder,
A crackle, a flash,
Goblins are thirsty,
I hear teeth gnash.
I cannot stay here,
The wall’s crumbling fast,
The only way out
Is not a quick dash.
The winds are a howling,
Crude branches do thrash,
The road is ablaze,
Atop shards of glass.
It’s a walk through fire,
How could I last?
Oh God, can you hear me?
I need a free pass.

“Remember the ropes?”
Huh?  What ropes?  Oh….

My mind wanders back
To a time of dispair,
When winds of change
Raged tornatic warfare.

Oh… wait a minute.
Did God just speak to me?
A stray thought?  Birdie whisper?
Call it what it be.

I saw the ropes
No one else could see,
Draped across aisles
In front of me.
Call it neurosis,
A temp psychosis,
Past maximum stress
What else could it be?
I studied the shadows,
Light patterns on beams,
But found no logic
To explain what it means.
So I took it as a sign,
I took it as a warning,
They were there some days,
But not every morning.
I saw thick cords,
Thought of ships at sea
When ropes crisscrossed
In front of me.

Illusions continued
Till someone hung a noose
And I deflied work rules
To go cut it loose?
Did they write me up?
No, bosses let it snooze.
But the old walrus saw
And spread the news around,
Then the hanger wandered in,
Thanked me for taking down
His alternative exit plan
From a company leaving town.

I quit seeing ropes
Crossed in front of me
After hacking down the rope
Everyone else can see.

We talked of despirations,
We were all biding time,
Of accidental suicides,
And clarity of mind.

Now I may be crazy,
Just a little out of joint.
That is a true story,
But not quite the point.

The thing about ropes:
They looked as real as can be,
But when I approached,
They vanished in front of me.

Remembering the ropes
Revealed the secret I need,
My fears are delusions
And faith is the key.

There’s a line in the sand that I must cross,
Drawn so long ago.
There’s a million fears that I must face,
Steeped in crimson woe.

N. ©2013


Cognitive Dreams

Drifting in and out of dreams, I became aware of cognitive therapy occurring as I sleep. An oh, I should try to remember this, write it down when fully awake, this is great… and of course, it all fades away after my feet hit the floor and all I am left with is dream fragments. That’s okay. It tickles me that my mind is sifting and sorting its own way, wrapping itself around new ideas, and positively reinforcing my efforts of recovery with supportive dreams.

For example, one of several dreams last night was about shooting the sky. I blasted the hell out of a veil of limitations, watched it shatter into a shower of pink and gray and white confetti, then felt the warmth of the sun under a pretty blue sky while filled with a knowing that some of my perceived limitations are only illusions.

Another example? This one didn’t have a voice over, no awareness of the meaning inside the dream, but thinking about it after I woke up makes me think that it had a meaning. It was a dream about a dress.

Okay, it was a strange dream that I had a couple nights ago about taking a little vacation to meet up with a friend and not having enough time to pack a bag so I arrived with no clothes. Then, as dreams flip, I am in this mall but it is not really a mall, and I’m saying, “help me, I have no clothes.” And these two guys take me in and doll me up, head to toe, dress me in this gold brocade, a heavy woven little dress adorned with beads and glitter, kind of cut like the mini dress that came on a doll I got for Christmas when I was ten years old, but with short sleeves. It was cute. They did my hair and makeup, strapped sexy shoes on my feet, and spun me to the mirror. The hair dresser admired his own work and said, “Darling, you look fabulous!” And I did. Then I am with my friend, that sweet beautiful man (so rare to dream of him) and no, it was not a sexual dream (drats!), more like a post-sexual dream as I am there trying to put this dress back on and he is just watching me with a contained smile, as if my effort somewhat amuses him. He doesn’t say a word. I’m like fighting with this dress. I can’t put it on. There is no stretch in the dress so I can’t wiggle into it or twist it around to reach the zipper that runs the whole length of the back, like a jacket zipper from neck to hem. I can’t put it on by myself, can’t zip it by myself, so I panic. What am I going to do? I have absolutely nothing else to wear and I can’t walk out wearing the dress unzipped, like a gapped open hospital gown. I’m doing all these things trying to get this dress on and woke up from this bizarre dream thinking duh, why didn’t I ask for help? Hey, zip me please?

So, maybe I will learn something from my dreams, like it is okay to ask for help, we can’t always do everything on our own, and sometimes our limitations are only illusions.