I solved my dreams. Every one
Of my dreams is solved. What’s done
Lives on as a dream, and what’s to come
Will be a dream; know your dreams,
Because nothing really is. Everything seems.
Nothing makes sense until you make sense of dreams.
Gestalt Therapy Verbatim by Fritz Perls
Was a book hidden beneath the thick curls
Of youth in a New York City, 1960s, hippie, domain
When German philosophy, a warm rain,
Whispered across an empty, devastated, plain.
Yesterday a teenager, with everything to do,
Secretly found the secret: everything in a dream is you.
Describe your dream in the present tense
And say how the spiders are crawling
On you and it’s completely creeping you out.
The spiders are you. The spiders are the part
Of you which you’ve rejected. Touching
Is not something you do with others enough.
Solve your dream, and take in your hand the key
And feel it perfectly into the lock
And live yourself and read your book
And let others read it, and smile.
We haven’t seen you this relaxed in a while.
Now you can better understand me
And the insouciant grandeur
Of my haughty, yet melancholy, style—
Which you first experienced as a kind smile.
Later you found out I had another side
Which you felt was judging you. I blame
Those who blame. Because your dream is you,
Blame is not something you should ever do.
I secretly roll my eyes when people blame.
Dream a word. A word is never a name.