“TimeStream Swimming”*

(March 4, 2019)

swim in a timestream

to a chill sweat-sheen awake

years since last such dream

*(Some call ’em nightmares, some just sleeping daydreams. Sometimes I miss those old favorites from my youth and later – almost always brought on by stressful situations – physical, mental or moral. I do miss some of the oldies which played regularly on the theater between my retinas and eyelids: almost all started from some outside stimuli but these ended up becoming faithful standbys: one of weirdly massing and moving colors in no contained cloudlike structure pressaged yet another bout of youthful tonsillitis, generally at mid-summer when something really fun was on tap the following morning – invariably on Friday. And almost always at the upper right-hand corner of my bedroom – the darkest portion of the room where I entertained pirates and ghouls and suchlike. Until the roiling colors showed up between the ages of 12 and 14. But, once in Vietnam, I got into my old physical orientation – head, South; feet crossed at the ankles pointing North, my gaze going upwards and to the right and there the colors in no apparent test pattern appeared. But this time no tonsil problem. Just a walking pneumonia-type FUO (fever of unknown origin.) I was elated. I had recovered my nack of getting sick…and on the day before I was scheduled to go back to DaNang for some rear-echelon time riding herd on a wayward desk. At other times my dreams went from sweat-drenched mystical combats or confrontations to a familiar enjoyable ride to the drive-in. A few times I was allowed to direct these movies; got color and even sound. And dialog. But, damn, I never got to go flying through gauzy clouds.)