REM Line.

We grasp at vagueries and wisps of color and faces.

And what was once so real

now is a hazy fog.

Nothing but hazy fog.

I was a mother.

I was a night terror.

I was a demon.

I traveled round the room

frightening children.

But it wasn't real.

In this other world

We were a family in a silent film

hiking up mountains

an orchestra speaking our words.

Charlie Chaplain was my father

who smelled a bear

that galloped down the hillside and

danced with me

a dance of death.

Round the trees we go.

Hide and seek.

Stabbing the bear

I keep my dream

going onward perilous onward yes

the dream train traveling on the REM line

through the forest till morning.

I've lit my house on fire,

seen death and chase scenes.

I speak French

and Hindi.

I feel warm blood.

a mermaid--

a pirate--

a gypsy--

don't. wake. me. up.