Waking Dreams

i have had recurring dreams since i was six
motifs rather--themes in dreams

the storms came first
and half of them
(these dreams)
are of the storms
sometimes i listen to them as i hide underground
other times i watch them rip across a rugged prairie
(halcyon grain rising to meet a sky of ash) how fitting
they almost always bring tornadoes; once i
had a waking dream
the winds found themselves in my room
at the foot of my bed and i
waking up dead
it seemed
could not move
i was powerless
as shards of the shoulder of the storm
pushed through
someone called my name but
i did not move
i could not move

the other half
they are of you

in the dreams of storms i stand stagnant
the currents find themselves braced against my skin
but i am a wall against the torrent
i do not move

but i have dreamt of you since i was twelve
or maybe eleven
you were there in my life long before the storms began
but in my dreams
you were never there to pull me from them

you were second
in my dreams of you i am always in motion
i run from you
it has been years since i have seen your face
and still
i run
i tell myself that i am not afraid
but i run
you never catch me and you never have
and i have never had a waking dream of you
but i fear the next one may be
and in it you will gaze at me and say the name
that only you used for me
and you will be the dissonance and the stillness
is it not enough that i see you in the mirror
is it not enough that i hear you in my voice

i will always run from you
i will run with a fury i will run with a vengence
the winds of my storms will sweep beneath me and
i will run