Kidnapped by a Dream
Posted on Feb 11th, 2007
by 
Catherine
Catherine
It was very quiet
it was very cold
the arena of my dreams
kidnapped me
unexpectedly
a trapdoor opened
into the deepness
of my dream wrestled heart
dreams like blinks
dreams like breaths
dreams with a flavor
strong and distinct
I dreamt I wept in your arms
and you held me through the night
I dreamt I built walls of stone
with grit and sweat and glancing pride
I dreamt of running with horse-worthy strength
and your voice vibrating with beating hooves
I dreamt I could see, hear, taste and smell
but did not know just how to touch
and the worry that peeled open my belly
like a banana not yet ripe
sat crossed legged
and watched from a distance
when the waves stopped crashing
when the branches stopped flailing in the storm
when the heavy breathing reclined into a gentle hiss
morning knocked with a headache and a twice edited manuscript
and it read
I will live here
I will be here
for here is where
I live and be
©2007 C. L. B. Callender
it was very cold
the arena of my dreams
kidnapped me
unexpectedly
a trapdoor opened
into the deepness
of my dream wrestled heart
dreams like blinks
dreams like breaths
dreams with a flavor
strong and distinct
I dreamt I wept in your arms
and you held me through the night
I dreamt I built walls of stone
with grit and sweat and glancing pride
I dreamt of running with horse-worthy strength
and your voice vibrating with beating hooves
I dreamt I could see, hear, taste and smell
but did not know just how to touch
and the worry that peeled open my belly
like a banana not yet ripe
sat crossed legged
and watched from a distance
when the waves stopped crashing
when the branches stopped flailing in the storm
when the heavy breathing reclined into a gentle hiss
morning knocked with a headache and a twice edited manuscript
and it read
I will live here
I will be here
for here is where
I live and be
©2007 C. L. B. Callender
Access: Public
dream
August 2008 
absolute beauty :)
I like this a lot Catherine. It’s very direct and present with the raw, and yet contradictively colorful, rich and vivid … tactile painting of your metaphorical, yet seemingly very personal impressions. I get that you’re searching, and very open to other dimensions. I love your honesty, candidness and vulnerability along with the artful way that you can bring your experiences back with you. I can feel and relate. And the finish leaves me wondering. Love it.
:) :) :) :) :) (something like a 5-star rating)
“and it read
I will live here
I will be here
for here is where
I live and be”
I don't know what to say. You are good example of how creativity and imagination are limitless.
Thank You Arin…
I've been reading through all the comments you have left the past few days, and have been rereading the poems… and it is a journey of rediscovery for me. I suppose this is true for all art… creativity is a vivid thing… a living thing… and for me my poetry is mostly about the “moment” I am writing it… (meaning, while writing, I don't ever think of it as something that will be read)
So reading this poem, and your comments, and Tony and Shunyatha's about a year later… is in many ways like reading this poem for the first time:-)
(so Thank you again:-)