Only poets can die in their sleep
And that you are s.o.s.
Sleep apnea from being sixty pounds overweight
I am near l death in my sleep most nights
wake heart pounding
I jump up staggering ready to blow a gasket
I look down at my naked feet
with a DOA tag on my toe
I have not died in a dream yet
A poet once told me that you can not dream your own death
if you could would you wake up dead
maybe so, maybe that is what is at stake for my immortal soul
if the brain dies from lack of blood supply
the physiology of dreaming would cease
of course not, it would not be a dream
making se-ense make se-ense
making nose-ensce
for sure the dreaming mind is as close as I can get to being an artist
hear we go round the mulberry bush
fun with words
"I dreamed I found all my socks tonight"
What has this got to do my missing laundry?
I just liked it as a metaphor for satori or nirvana or what ever those Buddhists guys call it.
like connecting the dots, finding the holy grail of meaning, an aha moment, understanding and peace
Like Kekulé's Snake Dream
I dreamed I was sixty pounds lighter
and how good I felt even for an old fart
