But except in dreams

we are never really free. As the song goes. Don’t dreams have a way of working for us creatively and by sorting out big questions of the self? Interpretations are best left to the dreamer and not those who want to make symbols and apply them as meanings to be used again as from a dream dictionary. That is not to say that images will not turn up from ideas, memories, ancient art, alchemy, initiations, stories, and myths. They can make questions bigger or show us something we pondered about in more simple terms, whether or not they actually answer any questions at all, it may be enough to be engaged in thinking about our lives from a dream perspective.

Here is a favorite poem from Where it Goes by Martina Reisz Newberry.

A Cete of Badgers, a Sleuth of Bears

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Flint

FLINT       for Penelope

 

The tears. Where would we be
without the brine of tears?
Tasted blurred vision,
pain relinquished, escaping slowly,
heart waste, basted,
tears wrung out, dry tears,
tear upon tear,
tears that will not fall
even in our sleep
from what well of hearts
run down cold window panes,
late November fog,
brain fog, lifted,
sweat on the cold
metal of the mind,
cobweb of relished dreams
glimmering in morning sun,
redemptive tears.