Dance Across the Page – A Poem

In the dream,

I’m talking about

my writing, about

the novel I’m

working on, the

poems that I’m

writing, the short

stories I’m bringing

to life. I

see myself in

the dream and

my face looks

so lively, animated.

I happen to

look down at

my feet and

see that, for

some reason, I’m

wearing dance shoes.

They are leaving

ink stains on

the floor as

I walk along

with my companion.

Then I look

closer and see

that the floor

is made out

of paper, that

I am leaving

footprints shaped like

words behind me.

I wake, only

for a moment,

wondering what the

dream meant. When

sleep finds me

once again, I

find myself in

another dream. I’m

talking to a

fellow writer about

the dream I

just had. I’m

looking at her

in bewildered confusion.

“I just don’t understand what the dream meant.”

I tell her.

“I don’t understand what it was trying to tell me.”

She gives me

a look of

patience, as if

the meaning behind

the dream should

have been obvious.

“I think the meaning is pretty clear. You’re a writer. You can’t keep your words bottled up. You have to dance across the page.”

I wake with

a start, wondering

at the almost

dream within a

dream, at what

my subconscious was

telling me. I

feel the urge

to write, I

need to write.

It is who

I am.