WAXING GIBBOUS DREAMS
Owl was there to guide to me. How she made me feel
so small. She had a hard life. The light it can choose.
The light or the dark. This would’ve been better than
living in the bush. Stories with owls under the moonlight.
I have a hard time finding the universe in another space
or time. Long tunnel, lights, square patterned linoleum.
Picking out forests and planets across the tunnels. I
wanna see all the prophecies of all our fragility. Apocalyptic
at the beach, the vibe, the heart and spirit are effective
in changing the underlay. The stars disappear for a second.
Everyone gets evil when the time calls. It kept shifting
its wings and living in the streets. I stopped micro dosing
positive energy. Having moths dancing unfolds like a shadow
breaking the sun. I’m already wearing a fever. You yell
like glitter projects. A nice dabbing technique. She didn't
have toilet paper. She wanted a feeling. Loneliness and
desire. I want to be loved under the light. Baby blue walls,
fluorescent judgment. Taking ecstasy at the show.
FULL MOON DREAMS
She tries to brag about how an owl hovers at the top of a spruce tree.
The full moon peaks out as it cries. Wings flutter up and scare her
and whisper yell into her ear, I like moths on the streetlight! Lush
green dangerous grief. Found a loaf of bread stuffed with pills. Meaning:
stolen wildflowers and rivers where this chickadee sits on my hand.
He drives over people’s lawns. I let him in. We are dreaming of
that same world. All they do is play video games when they aren’t dreaming
of swimming with sea turtles. Peace. Sunset sky was full and falling off.
A black capped chickadee came up to me, Lorrie was visiting,
flew onto me, momentarily. It darted away. I felt so fancy.
He met a girl and she tries to brag about stolen wildflowers.
I mirror the violence, that dangerous grief. A friend called last night
in the wake of normalcy. Been six months waking up as an asshole.
In March I held my inner child. We cried for the girl who is an asshole.
She tries to brag about a sphere of obsidian. Captain Climb Up And Scare Her.
My mask of grief. A friend called last night in the wake of everything.
I’ve been in love with holes. I see angels. and Granny playing music.
What does this dream mean? I ask but nobody can answer. Except
maybe ask for more inspirational talks and opulent enormous spaces.
WANING CRESCENT DREAMS
Overwhelmed with the desire to evade has become a dust bowl
and all my shit is ruined. In recovery and working on my PhD
in Indigenous literatures. Trying to figure out if you can’t handle me
at my worst, then don’t stab me. Is there Indigenous astrology?
We drive along the river valley, but I am scared. I need to defend myself.
I am traveling Alberta. collecting them for $2 each. to lift up
the spirits of the world. Miigwetch is the most sacred thank you.
Nothing like walking up a hill blooming with flooding river.
Strong currents. They took me to the medicine. My aesthetic is:
Windows 98 Paint, a great big lake collapsing on itself
for a moment in time, surrounded in a race to find something.
Inside a schoolhouse, everyone owes me weed.
There are these tiny zebras. that float out and stop a train.
I confront feelings instead of dissociating. There are stories
in the sky blue. Storks are flying. We tell them how much water is
systematically flooded throughout the Dairy Queen. The centre room
requires a sober mind. There is an instinct to abort mission. I listen to
“Home is whenever I’m with you,” but then I come back and
nobody is there yet. I need to see the world. Maybe
the universe sent me lessons that were part of who I am.
NEW MOON DREAMS
A plane lands on top of one another but it’s curated
to push people away. I wanted to be home with them
in positive ways—in their dreams. A hotel turned into
a horse. The sun goes down. Dark edges are revealed
to myself, to reflect. I wanted to be back home. Why
are there so many people? There were ghosts—cute air.
Climbing upside down stairs. The sky. I noticed that
it was bright blue, more like a Slurpee. My rainbow flew
off the page aiming everywhere, piercing the ground.
We are near the edge of an ocean and I realized I must
be repressing a lot of things that can talk about dreams.
I appreciate yellow hearts. Maybe I kind of like my inability
to break up with experiences, a lot. The desire to make
myself feel okay and going the wrong way. I appreciated
their desire. To me, the clouds were actually mist
turned into webs. All of me is working to guide myself
back to my room with sweets until I remember to cry.
ADHD feels like I am stuck and unaligned. with
movies about ghosts and murderers in theatres.
