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Aug 2016
Dreaming with my eyes open.

I can see the mist, a swirling blanket overhead.

I feel like a taut string, coiled wire, sips of breath

between parched lips.

Patches. Puzzle pieces swimming in my vision,

an unruly tangle of images,

slowly being filled, linked from the borders in.

The ceiling hanging above becomes a screen;

roll the film, let’s see what has become of us.

I can’t hold on to you,

The dream canopy above me is like water,

one disturbance sends you rippling away.

I feel immersed in your presence when it clearly

isn’t there.

The mist, smokey tendrils reaching for my skin;

begins to thicken into fog.

So many images of you.

You montage in a cascade of colours and

you show me too much.

A torrent of raw emotion;

I watch smiles burst and tears fall;

I watch laughter radiate and anxiety creep under your skin,

I watch fatigue ride on your shoulders and anger bubble, pop, like lava.

Why are you so far away?

You glide around above, bumping across the corners of the room;

You are saying something to me. But you are mute.

Your full lips part to caress mine, but I don’t feel it.

I don’t feel anything.

And you release me and



You look broken;

something snapped inside after that kiss.

But I can’t ask.

You are already gone.

The mist is receding, back into the cracks in the ceiling.

I can’t make you stay.

You twist and unfurl into slight wisps of air;


I would open my eyes,

call it a bad dream,

but they are already open and empty now.
Tamara Fraser
Written by
Tamara Fraser
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