Lucid; A Dream in Five Parts

the gold of a waxing gibbous summer moon sits heavy on my parietal lobe,
regardless of the time the blue rectangle that is a screen and a love letter and a firing synapse
outshines the hydrogen/helium stars below,
while the soft pings of sent messages overpower screaming Cicadidae Magicicada
this is the part where i forget if i’m dreaming

it started in Science class during a lecture on the limbic system
when we showed up to class with the same library copy $2 paperback fantasy novel
to hide under our desks in eclipsed close kept secret
like your stories and poems
i edited in the dead of night
in glorious technicolor gradation  
as you gradually became the spectrum of whatever synaptic wavelengths
my 3(4) cones could perceive

i adored you
in the way
you love a dream at 5:37AM
almost too long after the alarm has gone off
to recapture any of the glitch toned rapid eye movement
and frontal cortex electrical oscillations,
i adored you
in the way
you love a bed and hypnagogia
the brief eternal moment before/after sleep
when all is calm and objects at rest stay at rest

this was before a series of suppressed neurotransmitters
norepinephrine, serotonin and histamine,
burying yourself in your own self perceived dreamy grandeur
only to ask through a blue rectangle screen for help when convenient
when you needed company
until all 207 bones of you disappeared

you showed up again,
just as you used to
a day before you got back in town,
how fitting when the autumn perigee-syzygy of the Earth/Moon/Sun System
weighs heavy on my parietal lobe,
you hide yourself in crowds between id and ego
dodging apologies and excuses
lucky that my sleep paralysis/obstructive sleep apnea
my habit of never letting go
keeps my unfortunate self-aware self from moving on without you
however lucid i may be

© Isabella Hansen. All Rights Reserved.