by Larry Brody
NOTE FROM LB:
It’s recurring dream time! We all have them. All I’ll say about this one is that over a great many years and a great many illuminating night visions, it has proved to be the most powerful of them all.
Of Dreams, And Treasures, And Needs
Last night I dreamed the treasure trove dream,
You know the one. Usually, I’m walking some
Exotic street, filled with spiced smells and fringed gowns.
Then I spy a little shop off the road, dark, maybe even
Closed. I peer through the window, and gasp, because all
That I want is waiting for me inside.
In the usual dream, I bang on the door ’til a strange
Man or woman arrives. He or she grumbles, and pouts,
But my urgency speaks, and soon I’m grazing
The shelves. Secrets untold! Mysteries solved! Puzzles
With explanations galore! Judge Crater’s lostabouts
Found, the Kennedys’ killers, and more. Why is there
Evil, why is there good, is God or ain’t He—all there.
I gather my treasures, go to the counter, find my wallet
Is bare.
But last night was different. Last night was unique, the
Blue Plate Special of dreams. I was home, in my
Living room, sitting amid the mundane souvenirs of
The day, Time Magazine, TV GUIDE, People, the
Literature of my parents and friends. Then, on the
Arm of the couch there it was. A small book, and
Old, worn from a thousand hands, and eyes, and
Years, title gone from its burnished brown cover,
Glue worn from the crumbling spine. I opened the
Book, and discovered my life’s quarry, the Answers
To all that was, is, and will be. No shop, no
Man or woman, no shelves, no need for my wallet,
This was between the slim volume and me.
I put the book back between Sports Illustrated and
Newsweek, told myself I’d have to catch up on my
Reading some time. The joy is the walk, and
The gasp, even the failure, not in the knowledge
In mind.
Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. Although the book whose cover you see above is for sale on Kindle, he is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.
