Dream Cycle



Dream Cycle

Restive in my moonlit bed—
dreamless, immersed in the shadows of the somnolent night,
attentive aural perception listens to the throb of my pulses—
till a wave of fatigue overpowers, drowns me in sleep.
Countless sceptered dreams sway my cognizance,
from the sight of a laughing child to the reveries of the Moon.
A hand is laid on my senses when a familiar voice whispers,
while somewhere an ailing child without a bed,
nobody to offer cuddles and comfort,
is enmeshed in the dreams of phantoms,
labyrinthine nightmares of monsters, 
processing information, learning to cope.
I oscillate between mindfulness and spiritual realms,
of proud possessions and more to secure eternal longings.
Somewhere a mother’s deep sleep cycles are troubled, 
inept to renew vitality and nous of purposefulness,
as her children are caught in the world’s folly of deprivation,
of half-filled bellies that speak of physical starvation. 
Brainwaves dawdle, limiting the waking frequency; 
wrapped in floating dreams of color, 
images drift through my mind. 
In the land of disremembrance, 
battered bodies in tattered clothes amid dumpster dine.
 
Epiphanies, in unknowable codes, show up until I reach a light sleep—  
bursts of cerebral hum, spells of pride, carnal desires override. 
Beneath the heavy eyelids, my eyes shine, 
move back and forth speedily. 
My extremities twitch, body unmovable. 
Aberrant heart rhythm, breathing irregular and shallow.
Awakened, I recall my dreams and taste the reality so hollow;
while palls of smoke relentlessly rise from a battlefield—
its recitatives heard far and wide—
that never sleeps, nor does the human guise of avarice.

I drop back to sleep, wakefulness instates ambiguity.
Dangling between the subconscious and the superconscious,
I am consigned to oblivion,
visualizing faces of maidens and lads as kind and fair;
jubilant verdure, blooms and birds 
dancing to each other’s hearty tunes;
angels walking side by side.
A stir of bellicosity resists my waking;
after all, the roads of actuality do not lead to a fairyland.


Author:
Sreelekha Chatterjee







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