Perhaps one day I will tell you of my dreams of dying I will tell you about the one where my father buries me alive and the one where the spider comes for me and I, frozen in the paralysis of her stare, can only await her approach, unable to scream. Or the one where I sit by the ocean watching as a gigantic wave approaches - veritable wall of crushing waters - and I in sheer panic scamper about, running through stairways and restaurants knowing full well the manner of my doom. If you ask I will tell you of the one where I fall from an airplane and get torn apart as I crush through the trees or the one where I steer my car off a cliff driving from the back seat Perhaps one day I will tell you of my dreams of living Tell you about the one where I hop and skip merrily alongside fellow kangaroos with levity so joyful as can never be re-experienced in the gravity of human life. Or the one where I figure out telekinesis and can hardly wait for my father to see it. Oh! and there's one where I dream I was dreaming and had awakened, only to awake to the certainty that life is just another dream. Perhaps what I should tell you about is the dream of me A dream of what one day I would become but never did A dream of things I could never dare to dream about A life-long reverie that twists me reconfiguring what I dream about A dream that cannot be remembered that has made me forget who I am I dreamt I existed. Did I? [28-XI-08]