“Christmas Dream”

Some time ago, I dreamed of feasting merrily
With dear acquaintances I wished were closer friends
And, dreaming, heard a choir sing a favorite song
As I let Christmas gaiety wash over me.
Time and again, I dreamed this dream for months or weeks,
But once I inked my pen and let a poem flow forth
That drew on that nostalgic, melancholy dream,
It never came again, and all I could recall
(Beyond its lasting charge of bittersweet emotion,
Or a snatch of melody from time to time)
Was one still, silent image of that table, bare
Of feast or decorations, friends or even light,
As if the gathering (and dream) had never been—
Or, just as in a fairy-tale, I’d not believed.
Oh, Lord, if any dreams come true, help me believe!

I wrote this sometime in the last week, thinking of the dream that became the poem “On Time”. The fairy tale I mention in the last lines is, of course, The Princess and the Goblin.

As always, I earnestly welcome your comments, suggestions, questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. (In other words, if you liked this poem, or you didn’t like it, or it made you think of something, or … please leave a comment to let me know.) If you liked this, you can follow this blo, which includes one of my poems every Friday, or read other poems I’ve written here on my blog (starting with yesterday’s archive installment, since the full archive is by now, at well over a hundred poems, somewhat daunting); I’d especially like to know, as part of my preparations for a collection, which poems you think are my best. You may also share it with others, subject to my sharing policy.

This poem is also archived on my wiki. (WEbook is still down.)


5 thoughts on ““Christmas Dream”

    • Thank you, Maria.

      I’ve only had a recurring dream a few times in my life (as far as I can remember …), but each time I have, as soon as I wrote a poem that drew on or described the dream, it stopped. It’s not entirely sound to draw the conclusion that framing the poem caused the dream to stop, since dreams are fleeting things anyway (described in another poem), but it’s certainly an interesting correlation.


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