Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

only our dreams remember
what we're desperate to forget;
a night deposit for the memory bank
of hot potato red faced memorabilia
made to order for dream noir.
allow me to introduce the house ensemble:
vampire mom smiles lovingly
then attacks like a harpy from hell.
zombie dad could stop her, but he's taking
the remote out for a sleepwalk.
savage siblings flash their pointy teeth
as they drag you into plush carpets of quicksand,
and of course, the return of big brother
with his rendition of the transformation scene
from "I Was a Teenage Werewolf"
(That's Entertainment!)
add to this a recurring cast
of closet dwelling deviants:
Chinny Chin Bo-Bo, his limbs
like steel saran wrap, under the bed
waiting for my eyes to...
he's on me like a straitjacket
laugh shriek chilling chin digging
into the vertebrae that only
your backscratcher knows for sure...
the scene changes - to the basement
listen... weird dark music from
the stygian depths of eldritch horror
drifts vaporously from the slowly
opening closet door beneath the cellar stairs
you can almost begin to....
wah-wah sirens!
strobo flash!!
The Lizard Man - turtle beak and
red vicious fear eating eyes, reptilian
scaly cold rasping metallic hisses
arms undulating,
boneless fleshy graspers
octupi fingers writhe,
a knotted twitchy mass
tense suddenly, alert
unraveling as if by command
they begin to sway
cobra hypnotic, freezing my will
their talon claw tips open like piano lids,
gasping, terrified, I watch as
wormy little snakeys emerge
jerking spasmodically, evil mouths
piping shrill whistle panic in my mind
heads bobbing back and forth,
in and out of their
throbbing scaly finger sheaths...
Jesus Christ!
abominable damnations from a tar pit dementia
symbols of the sequestered shut-ins
from the shadow caves of
gumdrop mountain...
for godsakes man
can someone give me a cigarette?

that rocks dino
I been there
not that it matters



I can relate, got the gut feeling

climbing those stairs with hairs on the back of my neck prickling.

gracias
keep um coming
please
sincerely
jt

my childhood nightmares were often and scary as hell (my adult ones are no slouch either.) symbols of familial crappo. hell, my childhood was rather mild, relatively speaking.
but that doesn't matter. childhood contains its own peculiar horrors regardless of the severity of trauma.
all the images are true to my dreams with very little embellishment.

Dino I have made about 15 posts today,
"I am a shut in without a home"
but I got to make one more here.

This one hit me so many times from so many directions

I cesored myself on my first reply
because
I was nervous about sounding condenscending or preachey


I was a grown man in my thirties still persued by childhood fears.

I finally put those demons to rest. I am a late bloomer I guess.

They still come on certain nights when I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. This is usualy after long stressful days, which I have so few of these days. But when I do have a vivid nightmare it more is more like cheap entertainment.

I can't remember exactly when those dreams stopped chasing me up the stairs, sometime in my thirties I think. Just one day they were gone from my present waking life.

please pardon my spilling my guts to you

poetry like a
trip
for me sometimes

pleasant dreams
I appologize too much
Cecil tells me it is unseemly
sorry
just jamming your poetry

What ever it is dino
I think you are making good use of it
I wish I was doing more with mine

god i wish we were in a bar or doing a doob or something. you're a good guy and i consider you a friend. dp