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if only I'd been lucid
1.
a mansion in no-man’s-land with red wallpaper.
muffled music enjoyed by people passed out
on couches.
I remember there was a poem on the wall there.
I remember reading it as I brushed my teeth
when I was a little girl.
I can’t decide where these dreams crawl from,
though it always feels so fervent in the moment.
the anger and passion, the cool poison of tears.
mars fell to his knees in ache the first time I
lost sleep over you.
2.
or maybe
it was a hotel.
it looks like isolation, like blizzard, like
winter, like cheating.
the shining (in your eyes as I realized)
I remember the love in mine a month ago
when I thought about it again.
you checked into a new place long before
you checked out of me
3.
maybe the illusion is just in the wallpaper.
it wouldn’t be the first time I was poorly
mistaken.
walls like blood, like deadly love, like murder,
like all play and no work
got you in the mood to break me furiously.
you know I shattered.
you watched me.
and I’m better now but I would still
like to see you broken,
if I could
4.
just dreams, I know.
it always is, always was
5.
do you know my breath is cold in my chest?
only after nights of loving you

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While learning how to lucid dream and exploring it every single night earlier this year, there were countless times I would wake up from a particularly exciting dream - only to realize I didn't control any of it. In this instance, I was able to perfectly recall the extremely emotional dream I'd had. This poem depicts the grief I sometimes feel from not being able to control dreams - and, on a broader scale, other things in life.