what with the wind and rain
howling and pounding away
at the house (if not the very foundations
of the earth, itself) always seems
to free the sleeper to sink
deeper and deeper down
to those primal subterranean layers
of semi-consciousness where sleep
is more like a ghostly oceanic underworld
and dreams are luminescent fish
skulking about among the weeds
and abandoned machines and whatever
other random little trinkets and things
that filter their way down there from the surface world,
down and down through the hundreds
and thousands of pounds per cubic inch.
And, sometimes, you suddenly come awake
down there inside the belly of a dream,
just lilting along on whatever
under-current that comes sliding by.
And, though you’ve become slightly
more self-aware (of a few of your
other selves) down there in the briny,
dreamy deep-down,
you do not drown.
-Jason Ryberg, 2010
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