literature

Not Just Last Night's Dream

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Literature Text

I rode through time
in a screen of all colors
and all light-
all real
and all fake.

Darkness, at first
devoid of stars
devoid of life
devoid of anything.
Light filtered through the small
thin
crack in the door
of the dusty closet
that had sat there 
abandoned 
for years
and years
and now here I was 
sitting
coughing
but alive
in something that was all 
but alive itself. 

Shaky hand against the door
a small push
a flow of fresh air
to clear out the staleness of breath
the fearfulness of breath
the memory of breath. 
Light
blinding
shadow
relief
eyes
just...
adjusting...
and...
there...

“Come.”
A hand
sweaty
worn, but alive
beating 
in my own
and my legs flying out behind 
in clothing
too tight
too perfect
too new for the old world
that I had discovered
on accident.

Thumping in my head
pounding behind my eyes
dust behind me
in a cloud
of dead stars 
clustering as my pursuers
coughed and spluttered.

“Here.”
A rounded corner
yellowed paper crumpled underneath
hasty footsteps
door slammed open
more dust
more death
more everything
more nothingness.

Darkness again, but his voice speaks to me
until the darkness is no longer nothingness
but a slight somethingness
just on the edge
of my unsteady vision. 

“We’re safe now.”
Deep, shuddering breaths
with hands on knees
bent over in pain
pain in my legs
in my lungs
in my side.
I feel arms around me
of safety
of care
of relief.

His arms are timeless
in that they belong to no one time
but to all of them
but to every single one of them
like a person with more friends than they can count
like a person with more enemies than they can count
like a person without limits or beginnings 
or endings.

In his arms I am neither too old
or too young
or too modern 
or too ancient.
It is just me
and only me
but not just only me
because there is no just only me.
There is amazing me
and strong me
and powerful me
but no only me
and he
of all the people in the world
understood that.

“Wake up.”
Fluttering eyes
find my visions disappear
as if they had never existed
in their starcrossed way-
their tricky
sneaky
fox-like 
way.
But I was wise.
I knew that however many times it disappeared
however many times reality came back
to claim me with harshness
with real coughs and
real pain
that it was still real.

Just because it happened in my head
did not mean it was not real.
Instead it just meant we shared a limited time together
in secret
and that no one else
ever
would understand it
would know it
would accept it
because dreams are my own
and to be
kept to myself
with dust clouds
old cabinets 
and timeless arms.
Oh no... more poetry....
I honestly wrote this last night, a few hours after the last one, but decided not to post it until today. So yeah.
Again, no experience, blah blah blah, but it was fun. I found myself sorta flowing along with it, smiling at words and trying to figure out how to fit them together (or cut them apart, as it is) to work well. I avoided, as you might have noticed, saying things outright. Like instead of saying "He grabbed my hand" I described his hand. I think I might be getting better at show not tell! I am a dummy!  *sighhhh*


If you're wondering what this is about, last, last night I had a dream where I was pulled into the past through my computer screen and people were chasing me and this guy. I don't know what the guy looked like, who he was, even, but I knew we were friends, or maybe more for all I know. This poem was a simplification, and in some ways a more detailed way of telling it, in a format probably more interesting than me telling it to you outright. Also, excuse the poem's sheer longness.

Oh, and bonus points to the person who finds the Harry Potter reference in here. It was unintentional at first, but I didn't feel like getting rid of it.... 
© 2014 - 2024 Porsheee
Comments7
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valwyrie's avatar
:star::star::star::star::star-half: Overall
:star::star::star::star::star: Vision
:star::star::star::star::star-half: Originality
:star::star::star::star::star-half: Technique
:star::star::star::star::star: Impact

aaah okay, again this is my first critique so it might suck, sorry ;v;

I really love this! Almost everything is really easy to imagine, and I feel like this could even be a story.
Though I don't quite understand this passage: "and my legs flying out behind/in clothing/too tight/too perfect/too new for the old world".
How can clothing both be too tight and too perfect? Or is it meant to be contradictory and I'm just reading into it too much? >_<
And the bit about the old world- how is it an old world? Was it like in the past? Or was it just a sense you got from your dream?
And I think I already told you that I love "Just because it happened in my head/did not mean it was not real."

Overall this is just AMAZING and I have a feeling I'm a bad critiquer haha >_<