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Insects and rain never appear
in my dreams and nightmares,

there have been dark places
as well as dead people
some talk; some don't

I never dream of flowers
nor shoes nor fish.

Trains are oddly constant,
although I haven't been on one
in years upon years.

I never dream of making love
or coffee or any food.

In my dream world, there are
buildings, often empty
except for flood waters.

I try a broom to stave off
the flooding
, but it's
as useless as my hands.

There are no books or birds
yet I awake to a bell sound
or my husband calling my name

only to realize the starkness
of sleep against the cacophany
of the waking world

and wonder what is this bridge
between night and day
between dreaming and living.

Brevity Quest 2016 134