Introduction: Yesterday I had a meeting with the Student Leadership Team. We were talking about possibilities that we could pursue that would be a welcoming place for them to invite their friends to. I tossed out the idea of a coffee house, with an open mic, poetry reading. One of the guys scorned the idea. Yet his friend said, "what are you talking about, you write poetry." I heard the rooster crow three times. The denial was greater than Peter's.
I'm not afraid to admit that from time to time I write a little poetry. Here's the last bit I wrote. It was inspired by a vivid night of dreams that were confounding.
Where do dreams come from?
- Not the ones that are built during the day
- Not the ones that are built with another
- Not the ones that are built over coffee
But the dreams that come early in the morning between 4 and 6 AM
The ones that wake you up, that ones that reflect the past in the future.
Where do dreams come from that could be reality but are unconnected to the present?
Can we shape our dreams? Do they shape us?
Can we knock a dream out of the ball park?
Or must they chase us like the running of the bulls?
Can we slay these night visions, or are they dragons from the dawn before time?