To keep up with the dreams theme of the previous entry, I just wanted to post two writings I did many years ago:
1. This poem is from 1993. My 8th grade Literature teacher asked us to rewrite Langston Hughes’ “A Dream Deferred.” I find it to be a very interesting window into my 13-year-old self’s mind:
The Lost Dream
The lost dreams sits in the shadowy corners of the mind
waiting hopefully to be remembered
hoping it won’t be swept away and digested in the brain
eagerly waiting to be revived
Where does a lost dream go?
Does it scurry away like a scared mouse or shrivel
like a snail?
Does it melt away like an ice cube,
or burst like a bubble?
Would it burn into ashes like leaves in the fire
or turn frozen from the cold and never change back?
Do lost dreams blow away like leaves in the Fall
or evaporate into the air and come back
as different dreams?
Will it escape to the mountains and stay away
for a long while
for to only come back if remembered?
Does it fade away slowly like a rainbow
or disappear like a ghost in the dark night?
Will it go above the horizon
to explore the world above
or shoot up to the sky to become a twinkling star?
Will it become a lost cause or ancient memory
or just become a nothing?
Or will it fly to be free and travel to
other people’s minds?
The lost dream runs away thinking no one cares.
It runs and runs never to stop.
It will often feel alone and easy,
but it knows it must never come back.
By Tammy Klein
2. This next writing is from 2003, ten years later. I was emailing with my good friend April about flying dreams. This is about the kind of dreams you have at night or when asleep. My previous post reminded me to find it in my email archives. I find it to be an interesting window into my 23-year-old self’s mind. Excuse the rambling, not properly punctuated quality of this:
“I think it is all highly symbolic. And yes, you’re right about everyone’s flying dreams being different..and it all probably relates to their inner fears or struggles. Some soar and some flap, some fly high and for long periods of time, and some are only granted the frustration of short, low to the ground lapses of flight. I myself was obsessed with flying my whole life – to the actual point where I didn’t bother to think that there was a chance I’d grow up and still be ground-bound. But I did grow up, and I still believe. 🙂
For real though, as a child I used to put on my Supergirl pajamas, tie my Superman beach towel around my neck like a cape, and fly off the bunk beds. “THUD! THUD!” That hopefully wasn’t the sound of “Tammy’s Childhood” ringing in my parent’s ears because I tried to do it when they weren’t around. I think when we finally got carpeting, they must have been relieved they didn’t have to explain to guests about the sound of human body striking hardwood floor day in and day out. My flying dreams were often a bit frustrating. I’d be making my way up into the air and trying so hard, but still couldn’t do it freely or at full will. It was just a chance blessing in spurts. And this might have been symbolic of frustration or fear of failure, never reaching for things I know I can do. In my last major lucid dream, after I had already visited my Appalachian Trail-bound ex-boyfriend and told him to call me in real life (he did), screamed at my dad all my frustrations about my real father dying and him not measuring up, watched dolphins soar through a blue shining sea, jumped off of a cruise ship and onto a deserted island, and seduced probably 18 people, I tried to fly up city-like streets. And unlike my childhood dreams, I went up and up as passersby watched. This time I flew high and at full will and no one seemed impressed. I guess the symbolism shifted from my old childhood fear of failure and never actually attempting things, into actually reaching for those dreams and being afraid no one would notice.”