A Mid Night Dream
I saw the road sign.
It is quite surprising
where dreams can take you.
It may be to a place
where you have never been
and full of people
you’ve never seen.
But the landscape I dreamt
last night was familiar.
It was in North Wales
and the reason I know
is that I saw the road sign
that read Croeso.
In the old venue
I met many friends:
Stuart, Carol, Chris and Maureen.
They were solicitous
and all wanted to know
if I still wrote in my magazine.
I was very afraid
that I would be scolded
if I revealed the journal had folded.
But this was my dream
and so I could tell
that the zine was alive and well.
I said my goodbyes
and Mark drove me home
at ten, on the M56.
It was then he confessed
that he was in a fix
and didn’t know what to do.
He’d always voted Labour
but was tempted to switch
in favour of Plaid Cymru.
I said, “Mark, I’m Italian.
It’s no use asking me”
And resumed my sleep.
© Luigi Pagano 2019
Such a delightful read Luigi! I like to read your poems, full of people, places, wit and information. Also the rhyming and the cheerful vein that runs throughout. I was laughing towards the end, the way you chose to remind yourself in your dream that since it was a dream, it was alright not to let them know about the winding up of your magazine and your witty reply to a confused Mark and going back to sleep. A clever one! A dream can be described with so much honesty and intelligence to create a beautiful poem is an art… Read more »
I am delighted that you are enjoying my poems, Gomathi. I try to make them amusing as well as interesting. The source for this dream might have been the memory of a writing group to which I belonged years ago. Sometimes, in recounting dreams one may be tempted to add extra information that wasn’t in the actual dream but was remembered from the time of the event. In fact I particularly recall that when I travelled by car to the reading venue, the driver and I used to talk incessantly, mostly of politics and politicians and what mess the world… Read more »
I don’t allow nightmares to interrupt my sleep, Trevor. If any ghouls named Jeremy. Nigel, or any of that ilk, try to interlope I wake in a sweat. Anyway, my dream was about a time when the only fiend was a ‘regular guy’ called Tony.
Leanne couldn’t drive me home as she was going out with Rhys.
Cheers, Luigi,