Poetry and Dreams

Third post, and already I'm thinking of starting a different blog...something totally anonymous, so I can say anything I want to. I mean, my actual sister as well as my quasi-sisters can read stuff here. Am I ok with that? Not sure. I'm worried I'll start editing, thinking about who may or may not read this. I could start a new blog, a really-bad-poetry blog. Or I could just put it here. Sometimes the poems are ok, sometimes they're terrible. The only consistency is that I use poetry as a soul and heart purge. Stuff that is too much to just talk about, or that I can't talk about, or don't know how to talk about tends to come out in poems. Or dreams. I have one hell of a dream life.

Last night's dream was unusual. It involved time travel, which is fairly common in my dream life, but from a point of view that I've never really thought of. In this dream I was waiting for my son to come out of his Jazz class. I was in the school, sitting on a bench when this woman (I think it was a she) came up to me. She was wearing clothes so baggy it was hard to tell the gender for sure, and she had a hoody on, hood up, and dark glasses. Anyway, she sits down beside me, and says "listen, I don't have much time, but you have to listen: don't send him that email". I had no idea what she was talking about, and said so. She pauses, and then asks the date. I told her (treat the crazy people nicely). She responds with "oh no, I'm too early. I got it wrong" and then she VANISHED! The next thing I know, I am arranging for Madeleine to babysit Lyn's kids (a whole bunch, and at this point in time there aren't any!) when I realize that since I can send a "spirit me" back in time, I should go back and tell myself not to send a certain email. So I do, but when my spirit gets back, I discover that I went way before the fact, and had no way to explain which email. I woke up at that point thinking "Oh hey, I remember now. So that was me in the hoody trying to tell me not to send an email. Wonder which email I meant. Pity I screwed up the time" I was awake a full ten minutes before I was with it enough to realize that the whole thing had been a dream.