Over the weekend I watched a rendition of Shakespeare’s “A Mid-summer Night’s Dream.” It made me think about the beauty of a dream. How fluid they are and how they happen even when we’re unaware. Dreams are the way our minds shuffle reality into some form of sense for the morning.
Have you ever had a dream that you couldn’t shake the next morning? One that held you in its grips through the day? This week’s poetry prompt is to write about a dream that feels entirely real for whomever is the dreamer. Have fun with it.
Write your poem and link it to this post or share it in the comments. Remember any poems linked up to this post will be considered for this year’s anthology. Submissions are now open. Happy writing!
If My Mouth
If my mouth were mine, I’d ask the dream
why my hands crumble
before I can touch,
why I welcome the dust –
a chrysalis shroud –
and why waking tastes
so foreign now.
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