Strange Dream With a Phone Redial

 

 

Prelude:

 

        I was sleeping one night

        Or at least from my best recollection

        That was the case.

        Regardless of whether I was dreaming

        Or awake I must hereby apologize

        For what were my actions.

        You shall understand more intently

        As I continue with precisely the

Happenings from my bed.

Therefore, I begin my ramifications.

However, if I were up then I

Admit it was me.

 

Stage 1:

 

        So I lie in bed with my body

        Under covers and my mind

In Detroit.

My mind wasn’t literally there

Or even on the cusp of there

Or even thinking of there.

Detroit is just another way of

Stating that my noggin was

Detracted from casing.

And then out of nowhere I

See that the phone cord was

Requesting entrance into the

Wall outlet.

So I plug it in.

The really odd thing happens

Next.  Observing a dislodged

Phone cord was not unusual.

Is that Neil Diamond?

 

Stage 2:

 

        But upon completion of insertion

        I picked up the receiver

And it was already ringing.

But it was more than that.

There was a sense that the phone

Wanted to be picked up and I

Seemed to feel attracted to it.

So I lie dangling over the

Edge of my bed with a ringing

Phone receiver in my hand and

I wonder whether I had pushed

The redial button.

Somehow, someway I knew you

Would answer.

I was flabbergasted or surprised

Or something and I listened as

You talked on the other end but

I spoke not a word.

You knew it was I and how

Exactly could that be?

 

Stage 3:

 

Eventually the awareness button

Was given attention and I

Realized the situation.

I was not alert enough to

Speak though, so I just

Disconnected the call.

Afterwards I pondered the

Results of my actions and

Couldn’t help dwell for peace.

Finally, knowledge poked through

And my brain registered the

Inflection of your voice.

You had that distinguishable

Sound and tone of which there

Existed a crackle from within

The depths of your throat.

You had been crying.

As if this wasn’t ludicrous

Enough the adventure provided

Another feature of surprise.

I distinctly remembered you

Telling me you missed me and

Pleading with me to talk and

“just speak to you.”

Could this really be so?

 

Exodus:

 

        When things had panned out

And my mind had cleaned the

Message into nothing less than a

Completely filtered clump

Of fog I focused my

Attention back onto the car

In front of me.

It had been several hours

Later and I had made neither

Heads nor tails of the event.

Freud or some other dream

Analyzer would most likely

Incur a heart attack from

The party of exuberance my

Thoughts would present.

I proclaim it means what?

 

Failure Cyst

 

Like an enormous, gigantic, humungous, titanic, or whatever other

Term of immensity you choose to relish in you could combine them

All and still would not even come close to metriculating the mass

And magnitude of which my failure has succeeded in becoming.

 

I must laugh when I say “succeeded” while describing my passion

And unexplainable and perhaps unforeseeable ability to forego the

Obvious desires to become humanly acceptable and discover the

Ineptitude that can only surround the most gollumesk of beings.

 

Try, try, try as I may and believe the optimistic viewpoints that

With enough effort and relentless drive for never quitting indeed

A positive outcome must eventually find its way into my path and

Latch hold of me in providing at least some tiny duration of hope.

 

Ignorance arises to plague me upon making such an obtuse assumption

When the reality is that my life has developed in a matter of speaking

In that there is a growth enveloping me inside-out and outside-in

Larger and larger my cystic ball of failure expands to all my person.

 

Repetitiously the events occur like mirror images one after another

And even with the knowledge to understand that each is separate

From the next the commonalities preclude deluding myself into

Accepting them as atypical or coincidental and without correlation.

 

Each and every time I have struggled through my attempts regardless

Of how fruitless the adventurous undertaking may appear upon the face

And often succumbing to the humorous notion of accomplishment or

Success and yet the frighteningly consistent torturous results continued.

 

However the days have passed fluently by and now comprehension

Has become my ever-useful tool of joy in my newfound abilities to

Celebrate the only true successes I have or ever will obtain and that

Derives solely from my failure to succeed or success in failing.