“Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy.” – Sigmund Freud
Dylan yawned, leaned back in his chair. It was another late night at the Nightmare Center, but at least he was collecting overtime. The entire year had been full of late nights, for obvious reasons. The election had peoples’ unconscious selves falling apart at the seams.
“Still here?” Amari asked, bags under her eyes.
“Unfortunately,” Dylan said. “I’m working a double.”
“It never ends.”
just before slumber
there’s a moment between
dream & wakefulness
a hazy realm
your smelly dog
at the foot of the bed, growling
the moment happens
you fall into dreamland
awake to sunlight
peering through heavy curtains
a new day – but
are you still in dream?
this whole thing may not
be what it seems
(Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash)
I dream of criminals, being a witness to misdeed
men with dark eyes do dark things in motel rooms
tell me to keep my mouth zippered shut –
I wake with a sense of dread
storm clouds gather outside frosted windows
a woman with an umbrella screams
then runs for her life.
(Photo by Lacie Slezak on Unsplash)
After reading Franz Kafka’s complete short stories last year, I was determined to read the three novels that were published posthumously. I find Kafka to be a tremendously interesting writer and literary figure, and after reading most of his work, the recurrent themes became evident.