Cemetery Of Dreams

Visiting a cemetery of dreams is not an easy case.

I had to prepare myself for phantoms' chase.

The shadows of unreached goals might be fast.

I needed to train my breath to last.

I coached myself for months for this,

in parallel with life's other challenges.

I knocked on the yard's door and it disappeared.

A man was there, caressing his long beard.

"Can I help you?", he said semi-seriously;

his voice was silver, his eyes spoke loudly.

"No, you can't, if you are a dead dream.

The dreamers can, but they're not in this realm".

"I'm the caretaker of this place, lady.

Do you need a tour to find your way"?

He "scanned" me and vanished with one pace.

Α "no" must have been written on my face.

I walked almost slowly and I found a sign.

"We are OK, whether dead or alive".

Who says that? I asked myself loudly.

"We do", answered a multi-voice proudly.

No one was there, no one but

a strange feeling deep in my gut.

I took a path I suddenly saw;

was it here before or do my eyes "draw"?

In between fantasy and reality

I kept walking to find clarity.

The left side was rainy and dark;

mourning was heard from a huge cracked ark.

The right side was warm and sunny;

music, a van, and a sign: "death is funny".

Maybe these, the right-sided

still hope that they might be accomplished.

I observed my body trying to see

which side of the two attracted me.

Suddenly, all those months of preparation

seemed meaningless when I reached that destination.

No side made me want to go and discuss.

I closed my eyes and I sat on the grass.

After a while or maybe a year

I felt a hand on my right shoulder.

"We reached the final stop, Miss.

Wake up and get off, please".

I felt a bit embarrassed

and I started walking fast,

but just when I stepped on the street,

the driver said "Wait a minute"!

"Nice scenery you drew there,

but I don't think they care…

The goals and the dreams, I mean, you know.

They don't "cry" or "laugh" the way you "saw".

Nothing changes for them

if we reach or we don't reach them.

It's us that are tickled all the time

 - when we collapse, not when we "climb" - . 

Maybe you didn't draw a cemetery of dreams;

you just caught the right frequencies

to listen to the thoughts of people on the bus;

you made your mind and their minds discuss.

But I liked one sign within your dive:

we are OK, whether dead or alive".

The automatic door closed, and he left;

a lady behind me that had overheard,

looked at me and said with a voice almost lazy

"Everybody nowadays is really crazy".

..

If you swim in Instagram’s ocean, you’ll find me somewhere here, on a raft like the one Odysseus had.

♾️

Anthi Psomiadou — CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 International : Credit must be given to the creator/ Only noncommercial uses of the work are permitted/ No derivatives