MONDAYS ARE FREE 046 — 050
Dreams. Possibility. Leaps. Research. Bewilderment.
EXERCISE 046: DREAMWORK
between sleep & wakefulness
Transcribe a dream exactly. Don’t comment, don’t let us know if you don’t remember this part of that part. Just transcribe what you have
We traveled to Fun City to escape into the woods behind my elementary school. Maybe 5 of us — the brave ones, the friends from the block — explored Fun City on the regular. There was Chris, who lived next door and was gifted and talented. There was Becky, who put unpopular girls underwear in the freezer at sleep overs. There was Scott, who I briefly “went with” in 3rd grade. There was Mindy, who was perfect. We rode our bikes to the edge of the woods. In slow-motion-action-hero time, we ran to the house where the Old Man lived. Nestled behind a chicken coop without chickens, a weathered shed without purpose, and a metal jungle gym on which children had obviously died, barely stood the Old Man’s house. On tip toe, we swore we heard screams. We could see it. The smell of wet cat and fear hung in the air. No magic beans would save us. No crystal shoe would fit. No kiss would wake us up. It was just us and the Old Man.
Time after time we got close. Always seeing him move between broken windows. Always being too far away to see his face or smell the stench of his flannel shirt or feel our hearts explode. We stewed in our belief that he was deadly. We imagined his horrible story. We created elaborate plans. We kept secrets within our group.
I mostly woke up after summoning the courage to knock the door.
EXERCISE 047: MAKING THE IMPOSSIBLE REAL
by some other distance
Write about something you’re unable to do in your waking life that you can still do/feel/ experience in your dreams. Maybe it’s speaking a certain language, or playing soccer, or touching a loved one from whom you’ve been separated—maybe by death, or by some other distance.
In my dreams I walk without pain. 12 weeks post-surgery, and years of pain, I only walk without pain in my dreams. I move beyond the 16 days on our third floor. The 6 weeks living in my boot. I train, pain free. I start races, pain free. I run races, pain free. I finish races, pain free. I walk every day without brace, boot, and pain. I walk as far as I want, for as long as I want, wherever I want. I remember what that looks and tastes and smells like. It all feels possible. Healing. My scar becomes a part of me.
I breathe in health and breathe out fear. I breathe in patience and breathe out hurry. I breathe in peace and breathe out noise.
EXERCISE 048: ASSOCIATIVE LEAPS
marveling at the many moves
Write a poem that begins in dream, swerves suddenly to current events, and ends up at someone’s bedside.
My husband does not know who I am. We are somewhere I don’t recognize. Part fancy hotel / part safari camp / part Balinese compound. We are with people I don’t know. It feels like vacation, but not. I am not comfortable because my husband does not know who I am. He is cold and distance. He is leaving going somewhere I don’t know.
He is gone and I am at a political rally / march. My foot doesn’t hurt and the energy is electric. I am standing in a huge and joyous crowd. We begin marching with flags and he returns, but I see him in a distance. We don’t march together. There is a distance. We continue the march. We march. We march. We march.
Everything fades. I focus on my grandmother’s hands. I wake up and watch her chest rise and fall. I tell her we love her. I tell her it is ok to sleep. The rise and fall. The rise and fall. The rise and fall. It slows down. I cry. I sleep.
EXERCISE 049: DREAM RESEARCH
something you can’t quite make out
Write down three very vivid images from three distinct dreams, something you can’t quite make out from a recent dream, and something from your day (today or yesterday, but no further than that).
Kentucky Derby mini-marathon personal best time finish.
The last few minis I have finished have been incredibly painful. In fact, I have not even done the entire race the last two years. I have cut corners early. (A truth I hate to admit.) I dream of being back on my feet and outdoors. I dream of a training plan that starts today and slowly and consistently builds toward a successful race. I dream of a personal best time in the 2006 Kentucky Derby mini-marathon.
A Nan-Tepper-designed website.
I started building a website in 2007. My blogging journey has been a steady series of fits and starts, redesigns and reconfigurations, focus and distraction. The dream has been to have a website that shares my passion, connects with others, and strengthens my voice. A few months ago, I became aware of Nan Tepper. In the spirit of dreaming and of calling things into being, I am claiming my desire for a Nan Temper-designed website. It will be beautiful and well organized. It will be past, present, and future. It will be the next part of my wide-awakeness project dream.
A completed PEN proposal.
I have recently committed to writing a proposal for a dream project — The PEN/Jean Stein Grants for Literary Oral History. It is due June 1, 2025. The farther out I swim from shore — as I read and write — the more I am convinced the story must be told. The dream began right when I moved to Atlanta and walked down the Atlanta Beltline and past the B. Mifflin Hood Brick Company. We bought a loft across the street from the building. I wrote a piece about the wolf sculpture outside its doors, Canis Rufus. During my research, I found out the story of the space. My dream is to take a big swing and write a winning proposal. My dream is to let my passion and training and understanding guide a successful project. My dream is to develop an oral history of art, history, and activism.
EXERCISE 050: ON BEWILDERMENT
Write down five very vivid images from five distinct dreams. Synthesize them into a poem.
I saw myself married in Chantilly lace.
Heat of July half runners snapping, I knew.
Saturday night jigsaw puzzling, I knew.
Cat’s paw stretching, I knew.
Orange jello celebrating, I knew.