Poets logo

The North: Future Dreams

Collection of poems crafted by a series of meditation sessions

By Doa DemirPublished 5 years ago • 4 min read
The North: Future Dreams
Photo by Robin Schreiner on Unsplash

March 2020. Sydney.

The city was in lockdown. Hospitality venues, tourism, most retail, beauty salons and hairdressers were shut.

Me, within four walls, is not ideal. As a young woman who walked on the edge of illusional worlds, I found it very hard to stay on the grounds of the real at such depressing times.

I was meditating for half of the day. Maybe I could find the answers to whatever I was looking for inside me. During meditation, around 9 am, I fell asleep. A series of fragmented dreams guided me. There were snapshots of future realities.

When I woke up, I could see my cheeks wet by tears.

I took a note of every detail that I could remember from these dreams in my journal.

This is the first part of my dream — the Yacht.

I was on a yacht, peacefully sailing with my lover, finding comfort within his arms. We glided through the ocean, watched the trees on the coast. During this escape in heaven, he pulled out a set of keys…I said, yes.

Photo by Özgür Akman on Unsplash

The North…

The North of somewhere,

Or multiple locations scattered across the direction of a compass.

Life…

Life takes one to the multiple locations

Scattered across all directions.

But maybe it is time to move North.

The North of where?

The North of who?

What is there to even find in the North?

.

.

.

The North is beautiful.

Greenery has bent down to kiss the rippling waters.

We glide through it,

Float within the sensations of dreams.

You are here.

I cannot believe it, my dear,

You are here.

How did you find me?

Did you sail? Did you flee?

.

The green, the blue,

You, me, and the view —

Is this real?

Is this what I’ve been waiting for?

My body over yours,

Head leaning on your chest,

I hear your bloodstream,

Lips pressed.

You have the most charming smile.

.

There is mischief, I sense it.

You pull my body up,

Fold over my shoulders to fit my shape.

Somebody wanted to be a princess,

I heard. You must say yes,

Because I have no clue

How to speak in situations like this.

I laugh.

You must say yes.

.

If not,

Then I’ll throw you off the yacht.

What a threat!

Am I blushing?

He is holding the keys,

I want this moment to freeze.

Somebody, write about this day,

His surprise,

How we sail through a Northern Bay. Yes!

.

“I want to show you a new world of vivid colors.

When we believe, we can see everything free.” — Natiruts

I dreamt of wearing a skirt, a crop top, barefoot, ears pierced a few times, skin decorated by the words of my poetry, myself dancing. I was eating ice cream, celebrating “us” with a few friends. He was talking about his golf clubs in New Zealand while getting drunk under a eucalyptus tree.

There is Brazilian music (Natiruts — Dentro da Musica) at a coastal picnic.

NOTE: I recommend reading the following poem while listening to this music.

This is the second part of my dreamy meditation — the Party.

.

Beat,

Drink,

Feet,

Think.

.

Think —

Where are you?

Think —

Would this fade if you blink?

.

Party,

This is my party.

People everywhere —

There is joy in the air.

.

Wine,

But he likes his beer.

Sipping it at a corner,

He talks about golf to a foreigner.

.

They must be our friends.

So I heard,

We are celebrating “we”

With BBQ next to a sea.

.

Barefoot,

Painted words of my poetry

By hanna,

A white crop top —

.

Did I have to be so unconventional this time?

We found freedom through bonding.

They don’t seem to mind.

One even said, best wedding ever designed.

.

Ice creams are out,

I shout:

A new life!

A new world!

.

We are surrounded by vivid colours;

It’s a new chance!

People dance,

A glowing key symbolises our romance.

.

I’ve dreamt of a big garden on a mighty hill. I was upside down, palms immersed in soil, spine moulded into the outer bark. I was seeing this heavenly new world through the thin, long grass, mesmerised by the horses at the horizon. The sky was clear. A young boy ran up to me. He was around 5 years old, with wavy golden hair, vivid blue eyes, excited, holding a plane he crafted with my lover.

This is the third part of my dreamy meditation — the Boy.

Photo by Benjamin Davies on Unsplash

The world is upside down. I am upside down.

The sky sunk, plants rose and took rule.

The particles on the grass tickle my forehead.

The world is beautiful when upside down!

A new life deserves a new perspective.

This angle is creative. It is youthful.

The wind brushes my skin, tickles my arms.

Pollens fly into their freedom.

A mountain is ahead in the distance.

An ancient tree kindly gives my body support.

There is a cottage ahead. Very familiar…

Either that picture in optometrist goggles or heaven.

.

A whistle follows the grass rustle. Somebody is coming.

Thin, white legs struggle to climb up the hill.

His face appears. How beautiful is he!

With that cute giggle, he adds to the earth’s music.

Golden blonde, wavy hair, crossed eyebrows —

That determined, confident look over his vivid blue eyes.

He carried a wooden plane model he crafted with his father.

I am in love with that father. You are upside down!

I know! — He cannot be mine. This boy cannot be mine.

I didn’t know that I could own such precious things in life.

I didn’t know you could do a handstand!

Neither did I.

.

.

.

North…

So are the answers hidden somewhere North?

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Doa Demir

Poetry is a lyrical way of describing life's magic. It is my dream to share this with the world.

  • Love
  • Nature
  • Travelling
  • Goals
  • Personal Blog Articles

I became a paid writer on Medium - https://medium.com/@doademirr

Now, I am onto my next goal.

Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.

Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.

Subscribe For Free

Reader insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment
    Written by Doa Demir