On the cover of our AAA travel magazine the bold headline:
“Unspoken Dreams from Sicily to Ephesus and points in between.”
And at this early hour, with pink jet contrails slashed across the sky,
warm coffee, feet cold on my office floor,
but awake and on this side of the grass,
I wonder, What are my unspoken dreams ???? and
would I dare meditate enough to bring them up from my unconscious?
AND if I could or did would I dare speak them, even to myself,
let alone print them out here?
Public faces, private lives. AND, what would be the point in sharing?
Do you have Unspoken Dreams that you don’t even know about/ I mean,
I know I dream about life after death being a banquet with all my Italian
long ago relatives — I mean, what a kick to share a plate of pasta with
a great great great great Uncle who lived when Columbus discovered America.
Or my dream of living in an Italian village for a month,with Mary,
in a seaside village where we can swim and watch the fishing boats come in . . .
I already know those dreams, they are in my consciousness,
already spoken, at least to myself,
but what about the unspoken dreams I will find in the depths. . .
I must overcome my fear of drowning and dive down into those depths,
and what will I find there? What will you find in your unspoken dreams?
SOMETIME then, maybe I can write a song,
If I tell you my unspoken dreams, will you listen. Listen to. . .
SOOOOOOOOO, this is how a few words in a magazine
becomes a power prompt for me. And this one is both scary and fun.