I would dream of flying
Freeform and weightless
I would cartwheel among
Clouds and birds and pollen

And when I awoke the
Loss of it and realization
Of gravity in all its
Limitations haunted me

Eventually I stopped having that dream

I dreamed of falling
I’d soar downwards in darkness
And slam into my own mattress
Terrified, I’d stare into the ceiling

It seemed to stop
Jolt me into reality
Moments before my own death
Before I’d go back to sleep

So soon I dreamed of dying

I’d be shot or stabbed and
The painless leaking of
My own existence
Pooled at my feet

Always there was blood
And I was insulted
Insulted by whoever dared
To end my importance in seconds

But then I stopped believing in life

I was obsessed with moving
Seizing the constantly
Fleeing seconds of the day
And at night I was running late

A long corridor that never met the door
And clocks taunting me and
Like the White Rabbit time
Was a matter of life and death

Does Freud have an explanation for this one?

Maybe it would be easy
If I had dreamt of my teeth
Crumbling past my lips
Sliding in a pool of blood

They’d swim in my bathroom
Sink and I could prod them
Like bobbing apples
Examine how I feel

Or if I feel at all

Now I dream of nothing
I dream of work and goals
And people who need me
And things I should want

I dwell in the future,
Escaping the present
I dream in cups of coffee and
Deadlines

I stopped sleeping a long time ago.