Missed Connections in Chicago
Past Lives And Giant Shoes
i had a dream where you found me in a dark mossy forest and gave me worn photographs of yourself in past lives,
always as a child.
you said you’d found something out:
that we looked the same every time.
in one you were eight years old,
dressed like a child from the 19th century,
standing next to a giant shoe in a field–
some kind of landmark you and your mother had driven across the country to see,
alone, in a topless car.
you were gone after that and i thought maybe you’d gone back to be that boy again.
i wondered how i could do that, too. be someone else.
i found a small basin in the earth between two trees where there was a pile of tiny dirt-caked keys
that could only have been to fit the locks of diaries.
i had the keys but not the locks.
i spread a layer of dirt over them and patted it gently like a burial mound.
Dreams take us to places we want to be, we want to avoid, we need to explore, we need to consider. Fantastical, frightening, other-worldly, heartbreaking, the images that come to us in slumber are beyond what we could ever imagine in our waking hours. Close your eyes and go deep into the world of our mind and soul – you never know exactly what you’ll find, but it’s guaranteed to be interesting.