Kinesisk kylskåpspoesi

Mina kinesiskaglosor skrev lite dikter i dag. Så här ser de ut:

Blå
Med tanke på
Att anstränga sig:
Att så,
att söka,
att vara kvar -
förbli
blå.

Substans
tom
kylig.
Att vakna; att nyktra till
att be om hjälp-
Substans!
Att lyfta.

Höst
Höst.
Andas in.
Flod,
tvätta.
Mulåsna,
skydda.
Vinter.

Filt
Inget annat, endast
Att inte ha någon
filt.

Dream-Weaver

False-Speaker says his lies,
long and slow and pretty.
Tale-Teller sieves them out,
epic, grand or petty.
Yarn-Spinner sees their tail,
grabs it with his finger.
Dream-Weaver weaves them then,
stories that will linger.

Weaves a cloth of lies and dreams,
Weaves a web of stories,
Weaves a weave that has no seams,
Weaves a net of glories.

Casts it then upon your mind,
Subtle, fine and clever:
Beauty that you couldn't find,
Should you search forever.

Stolen Life

I had the oddest dream tonight. I dreamt about living a life, somewhere completely different from here with completely different people. It was with a friend who had a penchant for wearing trench coats, living among some sort of minority group, with different cares and different concerns. I had some sort of administrative job at a school, and I went to church on a weekly basis.

The details don't matter. The important part is that, when I woke up, I had to choke a scream, because it felt as though the life I'd seen in my dream was my real life. For a long time after I'd woken up (in the middle of the night) it felt like I was trapped in an illusion, and that what I'd seen in the dream was the real me, living my real life.

I still can't shake the feeling, and I can't really explain it. It made me feel like I'm a cheap copy, like I'm not the real me - like the real me is hundreds of miles away, leading a life that I've never even heard of. It wasn't more exciting or in any way better than what I have now - it could even be said to be more mundane - but somehow, that life is real and I know it.

This is deeply unsettling. I wonder if it means something. I sure hope not.