haiku

blanka — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 22:09:48 GMT

Tonight from a delicate, soft colored cherry blossom a juicy and plumpy fruit grows

dreaming about

blanka — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 08:32:13 GMT

I’ve had many dreams over the years passed, some were incredibly poignant, some meaningful, and some (like last night’s) amusing. There are days when I wonder if there is honesty to any dreams that we have. Mind you, I am usually a strong skeptic about this sort of things. However, there are dreams that happen and I wake up with the most intense feeling of truth or a sign. Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in-between the reality and fiction, and both of them seem hard to believe. And so, last night it was a superb western, most likely from fifties…. And I’ll spare you details which were fantastically colorful and accurate. (Just to make it clear, I did think of horses just before I fell asleep. As I was falling asleep, I remembered how, as a little girl, I used to pretend to be a horse and how happy and free I felt running through the wild flowered fields of Poland imagining I was a dark shining muscular strong yet vulnerable horse.) But in my dream I wasn’t a horse, I was a horse-taker. I was older than I am now - in my mid fifties, strong and healthy, with long grey hair and lots of silver jewelry on my fingers…. There was a young cowboy, he had a crush on me but he meant nothing to me other than he had the beauty of a wild stallion, and I appreciated him for that wondrous loveliness. The barn was opened one night and the horses ran out free, their nose drills opened wide, their eyes unfocused and searching for God to help them. I stood with the moonlight in my old, grey hair totally calm. There is nothing (or a little more) more beautiful than seeing the horses run free, first time in their life… The fear of openness, the confusion, the wind that is unpredictable wakes up the soul, this is where it all begins for them, and it all ends for them. The beginning and the end are almost the same… They are equally beautiful. I knew the horses weren’t coming back, and I couldn’t find I, the will, in myself to catch the, to save them, and to imprison them. I just watched them in awe. They were gorgeous, even though I knew it was the last time I saw them... There is a strong belief in Poland, that horse is one of the best (if not The Best) things you can dream of. It’s happiness and a new beginning. I hope that even though I let them free and the gorgeous cowboy never showed up to help me, the dream meant happiness, at least for the next few days. 

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