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Poets - Tour Diaries - Part 4 The Substance of Dreams No matter how much you love the night, and I absolutely did love last night, intense nights tend to precede intense dreams. What one would need and may wish for, is the deep, dreamless oblivion that leaves you well rested. But when those sneaky dreams do find you, exuberant, violent and vibrant, Its like youve suddenly been caught in the clutches of Baba Yaga herself, and spirited away in her hut on bird's legs. Through the dark woods and festival grounds in the sky, dodging jugglers of lies and contortionist hangmen, eating tribulation and wearing laces of poison. By the time I wake up, Ive been running in circles, running without seeming to, bargaining without leverage and negotiating without language. Im hot and bothered, tangled up in sticky, white suffocation, halfway through an axe swing, trailing bloody footprints. Oh boy, its good to be awake again! Then the dream pivots on its precarious hinges, overturning reality, spitting me out. Im so exhausted I feel the need for another night to swallow me whole, to cradle me in a blanket of restful shadows. Just another eight hours, please. But now, sunlight, that ever enthusiastic puppy dog, is bouncing through my window and all over the hotel room. Its too loud yapping is an expression of unadulterated joy. But Im not having any of it. Not yet. Sit. Paw. Down. Stay. Good dog. What is this? Another dream? A daymare? Just another illusion, if no less convincing than the one Ive just broken through? In that momentary confusion, I reach out for anything to drag me out of the morass. My dark disquiet snickers in the cellar of my mind. Inspecting its weapons, choosing carefully, while I'm drowning. But then my hand closes over something. A tiny pebble. Something I picked up on a beach once. A random act of providence. And it becomes my anchor. Its real. I can feel it, sense it. Its rough contours, the glass smooth spans on its other side, the water drilled holes through it. Then the hand squeezing it. Then my arm, and finally the rest of my body, one limb at a time. I am here. I am now. I am. Breathe. -Marko
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