somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experiences, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have have closed myself as fingers
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously, her first rose)

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain has such small hands

I have deep, realistic and vivid dreams. My husband says he rarely dreams, but I think he just does not remember them. He wakes me up about once a month screaming or moaning or otherwise making noise.

Last night, I had a dream where I came back from somewhere (I do not know from where) and went to our apartment. Someone else was living there. I went to my mother’s house and she was shocked to see me. She said I had been gone for two years and she presumed I was dead. I said that I thought I had only been been gone for three days, a week at most. My mother kept convincing me how long I had actually been gone. She had given away all my possessions. She had me and Michael’s cat, Kamilah (who was very happy to see me), but she did not seem to have our dog, Bijou. I left the house in search of Michael. I remember feeling a great sense of loss and grief. In the dream, I broke down and wailed in frustration. I went to a mall, which is a place I have been in my subconscious before though it is unlike any mall I have been to before. I ran into a (real life) co-worker, Frank, and asked him if he had seen Michael. He said no. I do remember I was wearing high heels while searching for my husband, something I never wear in real life because of bad knees, back, etc.

Once I told Michael today of the dream I had last night/this morning he told me the dream he had. He had a dream where he went forward in time to find me and then went back in time to find me.

Michael and I think alike, say the same things at the same time, call each other right before the other was going to. We can look at each other and know what the other is thinking. Is is possible that our sleeping brains were sending waves back and forth that would correlate our dreams?

 

Main Entry: 1cor·re·late Pronunciation: 'kor-&-l&t, 'kär-, -"lAt Function: noun Etymology: back-formation from correlation 1 : either of two things so related that one directly implies or is complementary to the other (as husband and wife) 2 : a phenomenon (as brain activity) that accompanies another phenomenon (as behavior), is usually parallel to it (as in form, type, development, or distribution), and is related in some way to it - correlate adjective