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BREAKING
THE CHAINS <
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Dream
Woke
before the alarm. Pulled
the covers over my head
but you can't avoid the day for ever. Outside
the windscreen was white with frost. Poured
a kettleful of water over it and drove
squinting through frozen rivulets.
One
theory is
dreams are the way that the unconscious mind
sorts the day's debris, like a berserk computer:
fear, loss, guilt, desire, the girl in the mirror
at the traffic lights, in dark glasses—how is it
I never dream about you, God?
© Godfrey Rust 1985, godfrey@wordsout.co.uk. See here for permissions.
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