Friday, 8 September 2017

What Dreams Are Made Of

Good evening. Well, I've taken all day to come up with some ideas for this week. If truth be told it's the first opportunity I've had to sit and reflect, as once more my life is topsy turvy. I have few days to myself, and those are packed full and pretty hectic.

I have vivid dreams every night. Sometimes I remember those dreams and other times they've disappeared into the ether. I often awaken feeling weary because of the depth and intensity of my night time 'sojourns '. At least twice a month I awaken with tears in my eyes because of the reality of my dreams. So I have to cast these depressing thoughts aside. Sensible really, for as the days progress I forget that which upset me.

It's strange that sometimes I return to school or college days...."Help, I haven't done my homework!" What a nightmare! My parents often feature too. They remain young and active .I am a child again.   My favourite dreams are in colour, often featuring flying. So that must be why I so enjoy flying and would like to participate in other ' flying'  type sports.

In my dreams I am skating again. I'm jumping, spinning, gliding...and it feels so, exhilarating and perfect!

At one time I'd write down what occurred in my dreams..but not any more. Sometimes I have marvellous ideas inventions. Now I often do recall these. They say " Sleep on it." And that's true. Problems may be solved, questions answered. Morning brings a new light and a new day. No good dwelling on dreams, for that's exactly what they are...they are not real: despite the reality of the dreams. Let them remain dreams.....

Today's poem was written a couple of years ago.

I Had The Key

I had the key - so privileged , so lucky
To have the key
Safely in my jacket pocket.
The key to the back door,
And I could go alone
      For I had the key.

Once inside the smell hit me-
Quite unique, distinct, never forgotten.
I'd switch on the overhead lights--
Clank, clank, clank.
To see the mist rolling, rising
From the stark, cold surface.
      For I had the key.

Fastening my boots tightly
I'd step onto the virgin ice.
Practice, practice, practice to perfection.
Figures of eight-changes of edge.
The mist parting as I glide.
My feet barely visible as I moved.
      I had the key.

A record on the turntable.
Making tracings this way and that.
Living the music, loving the moment.
A jump here, a spin there, a spiral.
Blades crunching, breaking the ice -
Virgin no more,like flying!
       I had the key.

And now I dream of jumping-
Two revolutions for a double Salchow,
One and a half revolutions for an Axel.
I see myself soaring in slow motion
Arms tucked in, body upright,
Landing on a running edge- perfect !
      Yes, I used to have the key.

Thank you for reading this, Kath.


Steve Rowland said...

Sorry we missed each other on Thursday evening, Kath. We ended up doing Poetry At The Greek! (More of that later.)

This is a beautifully written blog. We all know those sensations, so it resonates - and what a fine poem. Thank you.

Adele said...

You still have the key Kath - you dance, you walk and you write, sharing all your wonderful experiences. Talented lady. Thank you for a lovely read today.