Two Dreams

Nothing very surreal going on here, but what the heck . . .

Yesterday morning:
I'm reading over a prose poem I just finished. It's really wow. I have the perfect title: Seinoira. I print out the poem. The bold, one-word title looks especially beautiful over the block of justified text. But I think it should be "Sayonara." I Google it to make sure. I cross out the title and write in two words. My handwriting is illegible as usual. I correct the spelling in the body of the poem as well. I wake up and I'm awake for real so I head downstairs, power up my Mac, sit down in my squeaky chair. I have a three-line poem called "Sayonara." I hold it in my hands. The first and third lines are longer than the second. It's like an embrace. It might be something. It might be wow. I feel competent as a child screaming out for Mommy wakes me up for real.

This morning:
I'm sitting on the sofa in the living room flipping through the channels not finding anything to watch. I notice the time on the VCR (which we haven't had in years) says 8:15. I can't believe I completely forgot about the Cowboys' season-opening game against the Browns. Dejected, I click off the TV and head for the computer in the back room.

P.S. Interested in dreams? (Nevermind what I wrote in Meditation My Ass yesterday, that was something more specific), Be sure to check out Annandale Dream Gazette: Poets' Blog of Dreams.