Tag: dream poems

Read Me (Dream #100825)

It’s 9 o’clock my time
barely three for you
but it’s no matter
we’re decades apart —
not hours —
only ghosts
here in the library
where I race to find
the book
I need you to read
before the alarm goes off
and I wake to the day
where it’s just a fine gold thread
that connects us now.

I pass long tall stacks
of coffee table books and
the bust of Blackstone
in the halls of recorded memory —
yours and mine —
and you seem not to notice
the immediacy of the moment
when I approach with insistence,
your retired posture almost welcome
were it not for the clock ticking
next to me in the bed we used to share,

but by then the words have disappeared
from the pages in your lap
and in exchange, a collage of
nonsensical images
fall to the ground at your feet
rendering me speechless
in that dreamworld way,
paralyzed by all I have left to say,
gasping for moonlit breaths.

Poem and photo ©2025, Jen Payne. The bust in the photo is actually James’ son Timothy but that’s too many syllables. If you like this poem, you’ll love my new book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale now!

Tags Connecticut Poet, dream poems, dreamwork, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Living with Ghosts, Memoir, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts

Creativity Poetry

Pandora’s Consort

You are legend
suddenly made flesh
but no comparison
to the mythology
I have constructed for you.
its scaffolding
felled akimbo
by your presence,
poetry strewn
in incomplete sentences
across the timeline;
mere mortals are not made for this;
we fail by our very nature,
destroy the sacred altars of memory,
light fires to its sweetness,
and burn down walls of forgetfulness;
best put you back in the box,
close the lid tightly
before even Hope escapes
the happy ending
I wrote on our behalf

Tags auld lang syne, Connecticut Poet, dream poems, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Living with Ghosts, Memoir, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts

Creativity Poetry

Dreamcatcher

Maybe it was the full moon
or just the occurrence
of these days of ending
things crashing around us
the long slow molting
I want you to know
I tell him
in case I die…
but I am no longer sure
if that was real
or something I said to a ghost

They all come to visit lately
by happenstance
or dream
by the cosmic dust
that connects all of us
or through airwaves
as cluttered as our
atmosphere

Last night
I walked with one —
a ghost —
along a woods road
up into a wide field
of apple trees
and goldenrod
laughing
like old friends

And it was so good
to see him again
that I burrowed back
into sleep
in case he was still there
waiting

Sometimes
when they hover like this
converge in dream spaces
whisper in dark corners
I think
I must be dying
And this is our
mea culpa
our chance to set things right
finally or again

I have no regrets

Tags Connecticut Poet, dream poems, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Living with Ghosts, Memoir, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts

Creativity Poetry

London Calling: A Dream

He’s talking about London,
shows me his collection of
vintage rock and roll posters,
slides close to tell me his stories
and his warm breath stirs me
despite what I’ve learned
about this kind of trespass,
so I lean in for a while
listen up close
and pretend I have every right
I deserve this
I need this
press up against the idea
until the alarm goes off
for a fourth or fifth time
and I have to shake off the thought
that slow delicious thought
and start the day.

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book…

Tags art, Books, Connecticut Poet, dream poems, fiction, Jen Payne, literature, Poetry, reading, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity Poetry

A McDreamy Wandering

He shows up as Derek Shepherd,
of course…

I’m re-binging Grey’s Anatomy after all,
from the top
all 435 episodes

Call it
guilty pleasure
comfort food
insulation
election distraction

Anyhow…

he shows up as Derek Shepherd,
and he is the person I remember
warm and charming and happy
and he loves me

It feels green and shady
like home
familiar and safe
and where I’m supposed to be

Until I offer him a cup of coffee
and he says
“That’s OK, we have some in the car”
and I know she’s outside waiting

I mean, she’s freaking Isabella Rossellini
except she’s
Zoë Saldaña
Thandie Newton
tall, thin, athletic
academic
catholic
the anti-me
in every way possible

I feel in my heart
this incredible disappointment
as I search methodically for
the old worn copy of
Gulliver’s Travels
that he’s asked to borrow

and I can’t help but wonder
even in that dreamspace
why he looks like Derek Shepherd,
why he wants to read Jonathan Swift
and why the book I pull from the shelf is
my hardcover copy of Walden instead

it’s my favorite,
the one with the margin notes
from my Dad in pencil, ALL CAPS

it was one of the things
they had in common
except my Dad’s notes were
smart and thoughtful,
and “Derek’s” were critical
mean and pedantic

As I walk him to the elevator
and say goodbye, again,
I realize how easily I am moving,
how my body feels just fine,
familiar and safe
and where I’m supposed to be

and while I might feel disappointed
still, sometimes,
I am happy to have been set free
loosened from what bound me there
in that small, small place
where I could hardly ever breathe

Nobody knows where they might end up
Nobody knows
Nobody knows where they might wake up
Nobody knows

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book…

Tags art, Books, Connecticut Poet, drawing, dream poems, Jen Payne, McDreamy, painting, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing, writing about loss

Memoir National Poetry Month Nature Poetry Writing

Spacetime

See here, this sweep of time
that swings in swift strokes
from what was to what is
what was to what is
overlap so seamlessly
sometimes
I see it all
simultaneous
joy leaves and smiles fade,
trees fell from storms,
and silly giggles
echo off the shadows
of a ghost
who seems taller now
than the tree itself
as I skirt the shore
skips stones
in a high swell
so intent
to take what was
leave what is
what was to what is
what was to what is
what was to what is

Tags Connecticut Poet, dream poems, Jen Payne, memoir poems, poems about change, poems about grief, poems about loss, Poetry

Memoir National Poetry Month Nature Poetry Writing

Trapped (Dream 012524)

I was trapped in a house of the past
where staircases appeared
twisting to nowhere
and rooms were puzzle games,

where I walked through
old conversations
and emerged in the present,
my foreign reflection
in a hall of faceless mirrors,

the scenes of people
I used to know
still in their old spaces
were so real I could touch
the pencil he held in his hand
at the desk he used to write from

but only she
only she
was my only constant

broadcasting into rooms
to show me the way
with an urgent regard
so as not to get trapped there

hurried me to dress
and gather my things
as if the house were on fire

as if my insistence to stay
would alter a future
I still have no heart to imagine.

Photo by Pawek on Pexels. Poem ©2024, Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift. .

Tags Connecticut Poet, dream poems, Jen Payne, memoir poems, poems about dreams, poems about grief, Poetry