I’m pulling this one out of the way back machine. It was originally written in 2008 and published somewhere, though the place escapes me without searching records. I’ve always loved the power of dreams to tell me something about myself. I can still remember this dream even though it has been 13 years. I hope you enjoy.

I once dreamed of Bob Dylan

I once dreamed of Bob Dylan
in a tree house, one walled,
and built from looking glass.

The old man spoke to me
as leaves colored like imminent death
drifted and swirled, their reflection
a knowing torture, and he said 

                                                   blankly:

“You must walk the highway
to get to the by-way.”

I blinked twice,
flashing sea stones
at his face (cracked and dried
like mud in noon sun)
as he pointed to the lines on mine
that had not  been written yet.