A strange man walked
through my dream last night.
A small bohemian attic,
low pitched ceiling, an empty cot
and a table with one chair and a candle
near a half-circle window full of moonlight,
and as I wondered
whose room this was
and what my dream was trying to tell me
suddenly, from out of nowhere
a person whom I did not recognize
walked right in front of me and looked directly
into the camera lens of my mind's eye
to see if he recognized me,
he didn't--you could see it in his face.
He was in the wrong room.
He was in the wrong dream.
So he opened a door and left.
It startled me awake
and I wondered
how many doors in how many dreams
before he found the dream
he was looking for
and I wondered
how many spirits walk the night
searching for the right dream to haunt
so as not to be forgotten by those they miss.
-written while waiting for Maurice
backstage at Lagunitas Brewery, Petaluma, CA
Ken Owen
Van Niddy Press November 2014
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