II.
I dreamed again last night of flying
Over the city
I stood upon a concrete wall
Overlooking the mess of orange lights
Rising up as a halo above the city
I saw many things
Terrible things – great things
And then I was flying, swooping
And the air was all about me
In and around and through me
Pulsing throughout my being
And then I’m falling
Down through the midnight sky
Down through to the light
I woke before I understood
Trembling
Illusions of grandeur: nothing more
My condition, though, I feel is unique
Dreams of incredible vividity
Feelings of terrifying euphoria
Bouts of uncontrollable sleep apnea
That omnipresent watchfulnesss
The darkness crawled into my eyes
As I stared upwards into an invisible ceiling
The pillows lay, prostrate lumps, on the floor
My head lay uncomfortably flat
On the hard mattress
I stood, shaking myself
Pushing the remaining sleep from me
I padded quietly to the window
Moonlight spilling over the sill
I saw the field, overgrown
I saw the trees, tangled at the far end
It was the fourth dream I had of flying
The reality of them haunted me
Simply dreams
Simply...dreams
But.
I was not so sure anymore.
YOU ARE READING
The Emergence
PoetryThere is a man who is named John Statten Roman and whose lifeline is strangely and inextricably tied with that of the beautiful and elusive girl, Zooey, and the mysterious and powerful figure known as Mardock. There is a city that does not exist and...
