Dreams, forever forgetful and fond of fiction,

tend toward betrayal. More often than not

these days, I dream myself standing, walking–

gliding, really–down hallways, up staircases,

into dances. In sleep, my body exists only

to satisfy its mind, settles into blissful illusions

of its own ability. Beast that I am, I wake

each morning wholly convinced by the night’s

movement, once again sure that this disease,

like all those before it, has run its course and

left me whole and healed.  Morning, though,

promises nothing to limbs betrayed by dreams.


5 thoughts on “Betrayal of Dreams
  1. Meem, Deborah (meemdt)

    Nice!

  2. Appreciating the persistence you put into your website and in depth information you present.
    It’s good to come across a blog every once in a while that isn’t the
    same outdated rehashed information. Fantastic read!

    I’ve saved your site and I’m adding your RSS feeds to my Google account.

  3. Thanks Bremerton. I really appreciate your compliments.

  4. Love the last line!
    So lucky to know you, have known you so long.

  5. Thanks, Mara.

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