Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: sleep

  • Prose: Celestial Beings – 30/03/21

    Prose: Celestial Beings – 30/03/21

    I wonder where we go as we sleep; I wonder where we travel within our dreams. Do we rise from our consciousness, into the cluster of the atmosphere, smiling, giggling, intertwining? I understand that some won’t dream, while others are cloaked with an ailment of not being able to see, while others are afforded the opportunity of recollection; they remember their dreams. Their moments of deep introspection. 

    Sadly though, some dream less devout, illness encompasses them, and they’d better off images be without. Their hardened hearts, their swift take, take, take, of whatever they can from the fellow man, well, why, this is their dream, and I know that it should be wiped away, vanished, completely unseen. 

    But, I want to talk about travel with celestial beings, not travel with the average, untoward man upon the Earth and down below. I wish to sing the beings’ praises, while knowing that I don’t know how to exist within the memories without saving them, although what I can do is immerse myself in their potency so greatly that the sensation at least won’t ever be forgotten. 

    Their glowing brightness, their ability to sing, sing, sing, heralding the coming of better things, and I know, I understand, I realise, that this path I am on each night, is the right one, despite the lessened waking hours, despite my inability to remain asleep, despite everything, I am able to revisit my celestial beings. 

    It does not matter that I cannot recall them in my thinking. They are there, I know it.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
     

  • Poem: Escape to a Land of Slumber – 31/08/20

    Poem: Escape to a Land of Slumber – 31/08/20

    I escape into a land of slumber,
where I softly achieve my goal,
to forget and feel nothing,
I am enveloped by reaching fingertips of
diamonds and solid gold.
 
They caress me with a richness
I’ve never known,
toy with me,
play with me,
these dancing hands I feel not,
though within them, I am at home.
 
I am deep in rest,
my back the fingers stroke,
and they play with my hair,
this escape is full of my hope,
because while I’m away in mind,
I am here and now,
though some would say my consciousness is not.
 
I relish these afternoon escapes,
the siestas which take me away
to a feeling of nothingness,
of wanted emptiness,
nothing here is awry,
nothing is astray.
 
And close to waking I experience
the most amazing thing,
I rouse slowly and recollect
remnants of a dream,
someone perhaps who I have missed
without realising?
Or perhaps I simply am recalling them fondly.
 
I rarely remember my dreams,
and when I do,
the fragment slips from memory,
perhaps the dream was a message,
or something else –
I nod knowingly –
maybe revelations will unfold naturally.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

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