The dream is always the same.
I am walking through a field of flame,
the fumes choke me, silence my voice as it
strains to cry out, help! someone, anyone…
Suddenly I am not engulfed in flames but atop a mountain,
looking down I see the scurrying of people as they flit from their mothers breasts
to school and then to work, repeating an endless cycle of drudgery.
And then I see the wave, it is massive, beyond the scope of my vision, hurtling
towards them, I cry out to them run! But they do not hear me, and they are taken,
reduced to nothingness.
I struggle now to wake, to flee from these images, to deny them.
But the dream is stronger and pulls me back in.
Alone again I walk the city streets, people walk through me as though I am a ghost,
and I scream at the top of my lungs for someone to notice me, but they do not.
No matter how many times I yell, no matter how many times I shout and demand
that they look me in the eye and acknowledge my presence, I am simply walked
past, my existence skirted over , unseen, uncared for.
I am in a field of fire, the flames surround me, I look around, gather my voice to
shout out for help ,struggle to pull myself from the dream..and then I pause.
I do not dream, this is reality. This is life.
I walk into the flames.