Richard James Allen’s ‘The Book of Bad Dreams’

from Text Messages from the Universe

(1)

You. You think you know who I am talking to. You
think it must be you. You who knows who you are.

You who will know what to do. You who will have
the appropriate response. You who will handle the
situation, whatever it may be. You.

Yes, you. Open your eyes. Wake up.
Wake up.

(2)

The streets are empty. What happened to that car?
Is someone still trying to kill you?

You are not going to die. You are not going to die.
You are not going to die.

You are already dead.

(3)

You put your hand in your pocket. This coat is too big
for you. Is it the same one you had on before?

Inside, a wallet, some keys, an ID card…but the
photograph looks different somehow…

(4)

You wake up in a tree. From your upside-down
position in the branches, people walking look like
they are doing little jigs as they perambulate. Happy,
floaty, oddball little jigs. Jigs they aren’t even aware
of.

They think they are walking
upright, but they are dancing
upside down! You laugh so
much you fall out of the tree.
You hit your head, and all goes
to black.

(5)

You wake up and you can’t remember who you are.

Perhaps this all happened earlier in the day. Perhaps
it happened just now.

Everything seems separated from itself, like a piece
of freshly baked bread that has been pulled apart.
It used to be one thing, but now it’s in warm gaping
fragments, slathered with something else.

(6)

You wake up. The sheer, delicate, translucent fabric
of time enwraps, entangles, enfolds. You drift back
into sleep.

Even as everything is so unexpected and out of
control, you have to admit that there is nothing you
like more than this endless caress of night.