Feb 18, 2013 Awake in Dream Time - Journal Entries about the almost real, the surreal and the unreal, Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries
With songs and lines from poems jostling each other to get off, or get in.
I find myself singing a song, then interrupt myself rudely with lines from another song, with no idea that I just did that! So, how do I know? My alert, interested, attentive, bemused, flatteringly fascinated daughter tells me!
Mom, she says, Did you know you just switched in the middle of the song you were just singing to this other song? Surprised and startled, I look up from the mundane task I am doing. I can hear the ghost of the previous song lingering longingly in the the air near my ears — and I laugh.
It’s true, I say, I did just do that –switched to another song right in the middle of this one! And I stop to think in the middle of the song which I just interrupted with another song.
I have this romantic notion that when I am on the point of death, all those songs will come tumbling out of me, winging out into the world, and letting the air take them into the sun, where they belong.
And they will make for me a pillow of song, and I will be borne along on them, higher and higher into the ether, scattering birds and planes, as I turn and turn, spiraling forever upwards into the sun, where they belong, where I belong.
And the crowded bus of song will be transformed into a thing of wings and updrafts, scattering birds and planes, as it lifts itself into the sea of melodies high above the earth, making the spheres hum in their orbits. Not a bad way to go, I think.
First, however, I must make a mental note to arrange for that to happen. I have to find my way to a thought so as to record it in the midst of this unceasing singing in my head.
Sigh! Too late. Another song comes impertinently down the aisle and knocks the thought over, and it falls out of the bus. Still, I can remember it. Quick! Don’t let it be run over. I leap down and give it a helping hand. The songs press back, a little ashamed and mortified. The thought salutes, and goes into the world.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feb 10, 2013 Awake in Dream Time - Journal Entries about the almost real, the surreal and the unreal
Greeting the Ghosts:
(First posted on my WordPress blog on Feb. 10, 2013)
©Vijaya Sundaram
Every morning, when I wake up, and every night when I go to sleep, I greet my ghosts.
They cluster around me, aching with loneliness. “Tell us about it all,” they sigh and await the news of a world they crave.
They never got used to being dead, you see.
I take pity on them sometimes. They are so very sad
Still, I ask myself, Is this all there is to it? Shouldn’t they be floating higher and higher, and eventually get sucked into the vortex of the sun?
I don’t tell them what I think. Their feelings might get hurt. One of them, a tender-hearted spirit stays long by my bedside, asking me all about my sleep. I lead it into my dream world, and it takes in a deep breath. The other ghosts, jealous and fretful, pull it back into their world. The tender-hearted spirit weeps. The windows rattle outside.
I turn over. I need to sleep. Morning awaits me, fresh-eyed and abrupt, like a child waiting to roust one from one’s rest.
Tags: almost-real, border-world, Dreams, Imagination, mind, Sleep