i used to lay in often meditation
in a dark room of somewhere
image-in-ing my body
feeling every part of it
and filling it with light.
last night i pushed against the flow
making love in a way
[i guess] i’m just not supposed to make love
it left me feeling hollow
as if i had just cum out too much
i couldn’t open my eyes
it took me many many minutes before i could even conceive of moving again
and when it came time for sleep
i felt so limited
and so depleted
i didn’t want to be touched
so i could allow myself the time and space
to let all the energy in the universe flow back into me
as things naturally come back to whole…
but my meditation was different
instead of filling myself with light
last night i turned them all out
>>what would it be like if i made everything dark?<<
so i worked with the willing and let it all flow out
[gone]
the dreams of waking were strong
and i think it's funny
that for months i've not been able to remember my dreams
but the last two mornings…
is it being so close to the sea?
(oh, for y'all concerned about actual spacial relations… i'm on the coast now)
in one
i took a speed boat from our little cabin on the shore (fantasy)
and rode to a small island
where i slept among the rocks "to recover myself"
and how long did i lay among the softly crashing waves?
(this was like sleeping on that island in Acadia park…)
i kept hearing over the radio
my father calling out
"where are you, nick?"
i heard him summoning the police
i heard the police giving reports
and all asking for me
and me… just sleeping through it
cresting up into consciousness ever-so-briefly just to detect the worries…
and when i finally got in the boat
(like a small impororted mini convertable car…)
a cop pulled up on the small dusty lane and knocked on the window
… all appologies: i couldn't find the way to put the windows down…
~~~~~~~
another
i was at some kind of monastery
some kind of retreat
but it was such a cult
and it went from visiting
to fighting for my life
a special gun i had
that shot out waves of sound
parts of songs
(like an MP3 player, i had to pick what song i wanted to use for ammunition, find the right spot with the most powerful sound in the song to shoot at people)
oh
there was lots of running and hiding
and dodging and sneaking around
a final scene of me running down a hallway that would lead me to freedom
dodging throwing knives, star-knives, electric shocks
shooting down my attackers
(not killing them… knocking them out? sending them into some blissful musical interlude?)
with such skill i would speed myself up to slow down time enough to see exactly where each knife would go: none hit me
but then a kid, very much like a faery i know named Sage, taps me on the back
i stop
turn around
he says
"you know, you really don't need to go through all of this: if you want to leave… just leave. you don't have to be like us: it's OK."
the place was run by all these gay guys
really sweet
high-society queens, you know?
but i guess i just didn't feel comfortable…
and there was a third…
but the memories are so vague now:
some odd motherly figure…
that seemed more like an adversary
conversations?
i don't remember
they are cleaning the outside of these apartments
preparing to repaint them
there are loud noises out there
sanders
cars
and radios…
what time is it now?
ten o'clock
— i've been dreaming far too long
time to wake up.