Oh my morning's coming back, the whole world's waking up

I dreamed I was in love with someone who was in love with someone else. Why must even my dreams be so uncool. lol :) Seriously, though, I think that's better than having to wake up from a very nice dream. Not all that often ( I'd say about once a year if I had to put a number on it) I have wonderful dreams in which I feel beloved.  (My, I'm so embarassed to be saying such a stupid thing, I hope the sentence gets lost in the paragraph and no body ever reads it.) And then I wake up and I feel lousy all day. Sebastien says he usually doesn't remember his dreams, but he talks a lot during his sleep. He says things like  "No, doing this is bad." or  "I've already been to this place." and I find it insanely funny. My maman has a book on analyzing dreams, but I don't think she uses it much. The other day she told me she dreamed she was buried in dirty snow. My sister says she rarely remembers her dreams, but she has these Deja vu experiences a lot. They make her feel anxious, she once told me.  My dog sighs a lot and often whines while she sleeps. When she wakes up, she goes frantic if she thinks she's alone in the house.  I wonder what my baby godson dreams about. I hope he dreams about his mother's soft skin and his father's strong hands. I hope he dreams about his grandma doing stupid dances to make him laugh. I hope he dreams of the first thing he did upon being born; gripping my index finger tight in his tiny, tiny hand. My papa, I know he doesn't sleep a lot, but I hope than when he does, he dreams of freedom and motorbikes. And maybe of a happy family. And of a grandson he's never met.

Intricate, But Not All That Delicate

Here I come bearing lame poetry again. Rejoice! It starts out slow and kinda cheesy, but don't give up on it.
It's a bit of a love poem (again, gah! how can I write so many love poems when I haven't been in love in ages?!)
but if you follow the form, it is also about breaking free. I like playing with form in poetry. Maybe it's from trying to compensate for my lack of knowledge/ interest in poetry theory.    :/ anyway, here goes:

Intricate, But Not All That Delicate
(or the strangest poem title you ever heard of)

Breath me into life
And sketch something lovely around my figure
Stretch my skin taut and guess what is inside

Make me.
Fabricate me.

It's not that I am broken but rather that I have never been assembled.

Here's a piece of me.
And another.
Take this one as well.
I'm entrusting them unto you.

Breath life into them
And sketch something lovely out of them
Stretch them taut over your skin, almost a part of you

Keep me.
Intricate me.

It's flying past you right now
Quick! Grab it, my volatile mind
It's mine but it keeps running back to you

If you catch it, please be kind
It's a bit shaky, a bit shy
Could you perhaps tame it
And keep it close at night
Fold it nicely in the inside pocket
Of your favourite jacket

Breath sunshine chuckles into it
And sketch youself in and around it
Stretch it gently around both our hearts

Give yourself to me 
So that I can give you back to yourself
As a piece of me

Fannie D. 24/08/08