The two most narcissitic things I can think of to post on a blog are 1) my own poetry (unless it’s bad teenaged poetry posted to make you laugh, and 2) my dreams. So, who’s got two thumbs and is going to be narcissitic today? THIS GAL.
The Dream With the Goats
In my dream I walked down a staircase outside someone’s house
(not a house, or a staircase, or a person
I know in real life)
The stairway was decorated
with kitschy ceramic goats
(like garden gnomes … only, you know, goats).
Big goats and baby goats
arranged in groups
to represent this person’s entire
On a step by themselves
the two oldest goats, nanny and billy-goat
curled up in a basket, eyes closed
as if asleep.
On the next step down, my mother was sitting in a chair.
I sat on the step at her feet,
took her hand
laid my head against her leg
and in that tender pose, said,
“How could you just die and leave me?
How could you do that to me?!?!”
Same night, different dream:
My friend Jamie was there
(not on the staircase with my mom and the goats – somewhere else)
alive and well, but not totally well.
He had some little thing wrong that worried him.
He was going to see a doctor about it.
I yelled at him,
“I hope you’re not going to die of cancer AGAIN!
You can’t put us all through that again –
It was too hard last time.”
When people say they wake from dreams crying
I never believe them.
That night I woke already in angry tears
at the terrible audacity of the dead
who made their plans for departure
without consulting me.