Dream: poetry slam

In my dream, a group of us were at a poetry slam. Never been to one but I’ve seen them on t.v.

The group I was with was indifferent. One impatient. Another member of our group kept trying to get ‘impatient’ to enjoy.

A young lady with flowers in her hair approached me and with a sing song voice said, “you’re last.”

Shocked I answered, “I didn’t sign up for this.”

A singie giggle escaped her, “I know.” She todded off as quietly as she had arrived.

As I looked around the table, a friend blushed and gave me a down cast gaze. Okay, this is why we are here. I panicked a little. Yes, I have a blog full of work to pull from. Countless more on my phone. This is special. I grabbed a napkin, a pen from my purse. Though I had been paying attention before, I was listening now and taking notes.

The presenters were from all walks of life. One lady used a set of zills at the end of each stanza. Love, cling. Bone, cling. Nerve, cling. The simple clings ran through the dimly lit room like gnats buzzing around your ears. Cling.

As the minutes ticked by and the presenters performed, I found myself listening. I had almost stopped taking notes. We knew from the sign on the door this would be over at 9:30 pm. Shoot, 9 already. I had to put pen to paper.

I didn’t even hear the lady call my name. My friend nudged, pointing at the stage.

Standing on the stage, in this dimly lit room, I took stock of what was going on around me. The table I just left was indifferent. The crowd was getting tired. People poking at their phone. Looking at their watches. Slugging that last drop of beer.

With force, I stomped my foot on the stage. The room gave a collective jump. Speaking loudly into the microphone, “are you awake now?” That got most everyone’s attention. I lowered the tone of my voice to continue:

“Are you awake now?”

I punched at the air. Only to grimace, punched a little too hard. “That kinda hurt.” I smile. Receiving a few light chuckles.

“Are you awake now?

Punched in the ear by a resounding pow.

~

Tonight has been about words.

Small one, big one, none of them truly absurd.

~

You have heard about emotions plain.

And even someone’s love of trains.

~

Life has been laid out before you.

A peek. A glimpse. A glimmer. A clue.

~

Will any of these words take root?

Once you walk out the door, will you give them the boot?

~

Did any of them leave a mark on your heart?

Perhaps one or two encouraged you to start.

~

Words are powerful. They give us hope.

They heal us and give us ways to cope.

~

Take care of your words and give them room,

nourish them so they will bloom.”

~

I took a quick glance around the room.

“Thank you.” I said curtsying slightly.

Don’t know what happened beyond this. I woke with a smile.