A Dream is a Physical Thing

Original image by Andrew Mercer via Wikimedia Commons. Modified by W. Stubblefield.
Dreams fly free, 
Embracing phantom lovers, 
Absent friends, inhabiting
Imagined worlds, lost
In a rubble of memory.
A body forms from thought:
Choirs of humming synapses
Enfleshed and wandering.
A dream is a physical thing.

I dreamed I was on 
The soft edge of sleep, 
Dark, warm, adrift.
A small, frightened thing
Fluttered onto my lap.
I held an injured bat,
As soft as a kitten, 
As ravening as night,
Felled by a broken wing.
A dream is a physical thing.

I held her close, a gift 
To protect. Animal
Wisdom guided my hand
Across dark fur, onto
The wing's trembling leather 
To touch her injury. 
She bit my hand; 
I felt her fear 
as I felt her sting.
A dream is a physical thing.

She vanished. I awoke, 
Got out of bed,
Showered, dressed, and ate.
Without thinking, I massaged
The back of my hand,
Soothing a forgotten injury,
A non-material wound
In nerve remaining.
A dream is a physical thing.

About William Stubblefield

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