Likely inspired by the company party I won’t be attending tonight.
.
My wife and I go to her company’s
Holiday party, a dim-lit array
Of long tables filled with people
And tall drinks that glow
Purple and blue, in a gradient.
A friend of hers asks if I’d like one,
Then forgets to ever bring it.
But my wife and I are content
To watch TikToks alone in the back.
It’s been a long time since I’ve remembered a dream. Of course it’s a school-related one.
.
The first day of class, our professor noted
That our schedules would not reflect his
8am period — A glitch in the system.
But now, five weeks later, is the first
I remember this. Half a semester
Gone, only one class attended,
And no way to catch up. I find him
In the hall and ask in tears if I can
Drop the class, but the look on his face
Makes me doubtful.
I’ve been reading and watching a lot of fantasy lately.
.
She casts it in our front yard:
A seething, writhing mass of magic,
Thick, vibrant tentacles questing slowly
Outward, toward us. We run inside,
Horrified to realize the tendrils
Can slide through doors like air,
And keep coming, faster now.
We dart up the stairs to our teacher,
Who luckily has the ingredients on hand
To brew a potion and cast a spell of her own —
The tendrils vanish at her barrier.
But the witch who made them is still out there.
In this heat wave, my brain apparently went to fish.
.
We lift them from the water
Then gently pull
The wicked spikes from their bellies,
Sharp as a bee’s sting.
The fish are palm-sized and slippery,
But they go stiff in our hands,
Making it easier not to hurt them.
I’ve been consuming far too much YA media.
.
The palace is just as she left it,
Every courtier’s face a smile
Just for her, and her return.
But each lie bites at her lips,
Until she is crying
Into the bookshelf, Kill me.
When the beloved king
Who she knows to be
The most vile person of all
Finally arrives, she is through —
She flees through a window,
Never looking back.
In my dreams, it’s always class time.
.
The professor says that in order to pass
At all, no matter the work we’ve done, we must
Have a notebook filled out
Which he gave to us, earlier.
But somehow, though I thumbed through it
Only seconds ago,
It’s gone.
I race back through winding halls,
Library and cafeteria and labs,
To the classroom where I first had it,
Hoping to find it fallen on the floor —
When I don’t, I begin to wonder
If the entire exercise might be a trick.
Likely inspired by my wife being away for a week for work.
.
I try calling her over and
Over again, but my wife
Won’t pick up —
She’s left for the fair with
Friends and not come back
For a full night and day.
It begins to deluge
Where I stand outside,
So I dash back in to scream
Into the phone in public,
Not caring anymore who hears
My angry voicemails.
I woke up and fell asleep again a few times this morning, which is likely what made my brain do this.
.
I could have sworn
That when I woke last
I was in my bed.
But now, I find
I am on my couch,
And it is late
Instead of early.
I fell asleep
With my wife, waiting
For a friend to come by
And that is why
My alarm is set for 8:30
P.M., not A.M.
But I am so, so tired
I don’t know how
I will entertain.
This dream was almost certainly fae propaganda.
.
They asked for something small —
Just my hair, for their nests,
And in return I would get
Something small, comforting
And intangible. But as we seal
The contract, the two muskrats
And I, I forget what it is
I bargained for, except to realize
I don’t think I’ll ever get it.
Not sure where this idea came from, but it would be great if it were true.
.
I discover after some
Fridge experimentation that
The juice of three lemons mixed
With ginger ale will give you
The energy to do
Anything.
Subtextually Free 