Dream State

The first thoughts that dance across my consciousness
before I emerge from my cocoon of slumber are granular.
A mysterious whisper from a sacred place taunts me
to recognize unfamiliar words,
to put them in a string and decode their meaning.
Divine messages begin to take shape inside my mind.
I strain to arrange the pieces in a way I can understand.
The voice of omniscience is muffled.
I don’t speak the language.
I am not picking up the right frequency.
The images are blurry, out of focus, overexposed.
An unseen ticking clock is a metronome of urgency.
The tension is palpable,
as I wait for fragments of meaning to peek through the fog.
One flicker of clarity is my only clue
about how much information is still missing from the riddle.
Time is running out.
An energy—a deep desire to understand—lures me to linger,
searching with eyelids pressed a while longer.
Someone, from somewhere, is trying to tell me something important.
Only the more I focus on trying to understand,
the less any part of it makes sense.
A collision occurs in the space between dreams and reality,
and a deafeningly loud, yet inaudible noise rings through the cosmos.
Twisted heaps of metal and shards of broken glass form a boundary,
marking the distinction between two separate worlds.
My eyes are wide open and,
in the same instant,
the message that was being born in my consciousness
fades to visual static and dissolves into nothing.
I lie very still in the early morning darkness,
hoping for the chance at another glimpse,
but questions are all that remain.
Most of all, I wonder if anything will return the next time I close my eyes.