Wednesday 15 October 2008

Breadcrumbs On The Window Sill

Just a light guest posting ('cos I realize that if it goes on too long, i start to speed read)

1. Breadcrumbs On The Window Sill

Beautiful bird
Lured by crumbs
She came

Time passed
She grew restless
Eager to leave
But food held her interest

So she came back
Again and again
With you she had no lack
Yet she flew further, every day

You knew she wanted to go
You held the power...
But no, please no
Not yet, not ready

Strong now - the will
No more breadcrumbs on the window sill
She left
Life goes on.

2. Although a fellow blogger, Obesio, once said, 'There is nothing more boring than other people recounting their dreams', I still like to reread this dream of mine - it doesn't make sense, but I find it interesting. (I forgot what book I'd been reading when I dreamt this; but it was a dark book, I guess....)

Dreams of Gods

I’d been talking to him. He was a big, burly man, and he seemed to be a Malay. He was nice, and in the course of the conversation it seemed that he’d been a Christian, before he converted to Zen, because there was more reason to be found there.

And then somehow, I ended up in a boat going upriver, and I held a box. He was inside the box, but I thought it was his bones. He needed help-my help. It was something to do with his god. When I came to a small bank, I got out of the boat and walked up the gently sloping beach to a 3-walled room.

There was a doorway at the end of it. As I approached the doorway, I peeked inside. To my left I saw a narrow, dark corridor. I could hear the sound of some creature snuffling around, and my flesh felt cold. It was a dog.......a dog-headed god.

To my right appeared a man who gave the impression of being a doctor. His name was Koomi, and he was a god too, I knew. He was thin and bespectacled. His light voice was cultured and his tone courteously impersonal. Naturally, he asked how he could be of assistance.

I explained that my friend had a problem, and asked what I should do with the box. He told me to give the box to him, the creature waiting in the darkness. I was reluctant, even though that seemed a reasonable option-after all, the thing was his god. Suddenly, it seemed that I was betraying my friend, handing him over to certain death. I could feel that my friend’s fear at the suggestion. Not just fear, but terror ..... hopeless terror. But since I seemed to have brought him here for this purpose, because he himself had desired it, I held out my hand.

“I hope he’s pleased with the service,” said the man, as he took the box and handed it to the impatient animal who waited in the darkness. I couldn’t see him but he managed to make his presence felt through the continual noises he made. I saw a brief movement, and the box was gone.....the god had sharp teeth, I knew. There was the sound of crunching bone, as I walked back to the boat.


Anonymous said...

Hey Eve...that's a nice poem.

Oh, did you used to read Obesio as well? I miss that rude bloke!!

Anonymous said...

Thanks kate!
Yeap, did read him, although never quite understood him ;-) a little like God - I know he's still lurking around, even though he hardly shows himself :-)

Anonymous said...

I like the poem!

Anonymous said...

Glad you liked it, cat :-)

Anonymous said...

Nice to see you again Eve :-)

Lovely poem, but I am not at all sure about that dream...

Anonymous said...

Lovely thoughts about the bird, simply expressed.

Dreams or nightmares, they certainly make us wonder about ourselves or our subconscious minds, don't they?

Anonymous said...

That is an unusual dream, but I agree, worth sharing.

Was it a lucid dream? It has all the lallmarks of it. Must have ben quite crepy atthe time, I can se why you remembered it so well. I'm trying to work out what was on your mind.

Symbolic, perhaps.
Good people enslaved by dark creeds.


is the bird you?

Anonymous said...

And you, Cherie! :-)
Hehe, dreams come and go, and I write them down so I'll know if i have recurring dreams ;-)

Anonymous said...

Thank you, jmb :-)
Yes, sometimes I wonder which is true; if what we feel and live in the subconscious is the real us, beneath the ego that manages our waking life :-) Had a dream of a bird in an aquarium a night or two ago; it didn't strike me as out of the ordinary, til it started to drown, then i fished it out, and did chest (or rather, 2 finger) compressions on it, and it started making noise so I knew it was alive, but its wing had broken off, and i asked around, and everyone said it couldn't be sewn back, and I agreed, saying, "yeah, i'm not a vet either.."

Anonymous said...

> I'm trying to work out what was on your mind.
I think it must be the fiction i was reading ;-) books have power :-) yes, my dreams are usually very clear :-)

> is the bird you?
i don't know. more often, i identify with the last stanza; to choose not to leave those crumbs. to choose to give them the freedom you know they want. yes, you could keep them, and it'd look like free will, but if you can do without, best let them be free of you, i feel. in spite of that thing about feeling needed, the bird doesn't need your crumbs ;-) so that's why sometimes, if the other person doesn't mail, i don't either; i let them leave if they choose, and don't want to have to accuse myself of clinging on...

Anonymous said...

Jeepers! What a dream.

Great poem. A little sad.

Anonymous said...

Thanks FWG! :-)