Every time I closed my eyes I saw people,
Strangers in my midst with tools in hand,
And every time I saw them I dismissed them,
They shrugged and left but returned when I turned round.
My husband couldn’t see them though I told him,
My children couldn’t see, they raised their brows,
I felt crazy with myself and with the whole crowd,
Who were these men and why were they here now.
I entered rooms and there they were dismantling
Everything they found and deemed demised,
I argued, shouted, waved my hands before them,
They shrugged again and, though gone, were still inside.
I hurried to the rooms that they were haunting,
Not spectres, no, but quite determined still
That all my protestations, all my anguish,
Could be ignored while on they went about their will.
My eyes were opened in their closed state, I knew this,
A dreamer’s state but wakened yet withal,
I’d wake for real, return and there they were still present,
A nightmare to a sleeper when sleep calls.
I had to write this down upon my waking,
Or did I write it while still in my dream
Or was the dream and all the fears and terrors
An illustration of my mind and world for real.
scottishmomus 