dreaming into death

prose poem pulled from a misty mind

Frances Gunn on Unsplash

the promise of seamlessness
like holding one’s breath before
ducking beneath a wave,

from air to water — seamless as if
all substances were as one

as if death were an ongoing condition,
a morphing as unremarkable as a
duckling shedding its down

an exchange of states,
minus transition

in the dream I begin fading
from color to gray,

my breathing slows;
I am calm, expectant —

awaiting a future foretold

I fully expect to cease,
my absence concretely inevitable

yet not-living is impossible,
beyond dreaming’s farthest reaches,
and like every dream,

the particulars recede to their own shores
of irrecoverable memory,

the dream no more capable of revealing
the final mystery

than death itself

I feel cheated.

Have you ever awoken from a dream, desperate to hold onto its message, yet all too quickly, the dream’s secrets fade from memory’s view? A recent vivid dream of my death ultimately pushed me away.

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Amy L. Bernstein

Amy L. Bernstein

I write stories that let you feel and make you think. Fiction, essays, poems. Whatever the moment — or zeitgeist — requires. More at https://amywrites.live.