Cereal Poem
I like how the raisins in my cereal
lounge on a brown flake, under the milk,
as I create a storm of pat and dip.
Or how they group together
in the bottom corner of my bowl,
chatty. Waiting.
I imagine the raisins as sweet alive stones,
even as I eat them,
not as dead flies with their wings plucked off,
as I imagined as a child.
I want to BE a raisin, calm and shiny under milk (water),
waiting to be eaten.
I want to be devoured, and taken,
to the next place.
.......................................
I have been in the most curious state of limbo. I haven't been able to describe it, still can't, though I know I'm moving now, am different.
The feeling from my dreams that I described last time, where my body is shutting down bit by bit, started coming up in my waking hours. I felt connected and disconnected at once. Disconnected to the world, but so so connected to myself, though I was kind of freaked out by how my body felt. And I had no interest in food. Nothing sounded or looked good, and when I did eat, I did not feel energized or nourished in any way.
After a while, it was just this funny feeling in my head. REALLY funny. Not a headache, or a cold......unlike anything I'd ever experienced. And I was tired. Felt I was being called on to sleep, and I wanted my dreams.
Just two days ago, the same night that I wrote that poem, I slept and dreamt that I was on a blanket in the grass in the sun, on the grounds of some estate. I was just feelig the sun on me, wearing just a gingham plaid floppy hat, near a tree and a house. Then it was the next day, and I stood inside the house, as this man (dark figure, couldn't see his face) rubbed this cream all over me in a doorway. I looked down, and saw that my one leg and lower back had no skin at all. I could sense that other parts of me were skinned, too. The man saw me notice and said, "I know. Don't touch it," and patted my bum on out the door. I went to the blanket, as I had done the day before.
Then it switched and there was this whole bit where I was in high school, and in class we were reading each other's writing. I had written the cereal poem, and this girl was called on to read it. She said, "I can't read this, it's a POEM! I can't read it!!" A few of her friends looked at the paper and scowled. She started reading it, but no one was paying attention, everyone was moving around and talking. She got to just before the "I want to be devoured" line, and stopped, put the paper down and looked away. I said, "That's the most important part," and then the bell rang and everyone left.
In the morning, after those dreams, I felt newly energized. The funny head feeling was gone. It wasn't until then that I realized how long it had been since I felt "normal" physically.
I thought about the high school part of the dream a lot that day. I wondered why it was there. Ugh, that feeling from high school! And a voice came and said, "You don't ever have to be there again."
I haven't Gestalted this dream. But I'm overwhelmed lately with patience and gratitude, in tears at the oil change place, a total goofball, wagging my tail at the iguanas, I am thumping and surging harder. Overwhelmed with feeling, but not paralyzed. Still unsure, but I know it's all happening as it needs to, and I'm uncomfortable, explosive, so glad to be present in this love, feeling everything.
I wonder if my poem was really a prayer (aren't all poems, in a way?) Because I feel in the night, I WAS devoured, and now am experiencing what's next, because everything changed so much after that dream. And I'm learning how to live in a whole new way.
So this "essay" is a bridge, because I know I'm entering into a big new land. And this was an essential gateway, these past few days (weeks?). I feel so much energy, yet feel absolutely grounded and sacred. I know I'm where I need to be.