This is a poem I wrote for Creative Writing, in the form of a sestina.
There was nothing there, in my dream, other than the tree
that was always there. This was the part where I was to speak my line,
this dream was familiar to me. Yet, something was wrong, a feeling under
my conscious, the dream was different, something was wrong. A scream
split the air, seemed to rip through the reality of the world itself, and the script
of the dream changed. I knew nothing but misery as the shriek left in my mind pain.
I had wanted to fall to my knees, had wanted to curl up, so pain-
ful was this cry to my ears. I looked around for the source, now amidst trees
everywhere, a forest sprouting at my very feet. Carved into each trunk was some script-
ure that I could make no sense of, yet it sent shivers through me, a straight line
from head to toe. At this point, I was turning circles, trying to make sense, when the scream-
ing stopped. Just as loud was the silence, though, and I felt as if I were about to fall under
the earth itself, to whatever waited below. Never had this happened in the dream, and under
-neath all of this, I was curious to know what lay beneath. Would what waited be pain-
less, or would it be the bowels of Hell itself? Hell, where the tortured would scream
to echo the one that had just filled my reverie. I looked up to the original tree,
which stood higher than the rest that had joined it. Always it had been a lifeline,
something to guide me when I had a question, to provide the next step in lifeís script.
Again I turned in a circle, looking at the forest, everything so beautiful, denying descript-
ion. The ancient writings caught my eyes again, and I tried to make sense. Thunder
rumbled through the sky, then lightning flared across the sky like burning gasoline
dancing across the waterís surface; the after-flash on my eyes sent a lingering pain
echoing through my head. I stumbled, trying to walk, to get out of this maze of trees,
yet I could not find my way, I knew not where I ventured, and I wandered until I had to scream
out, frustration having reached its max within me. And so I let go, the shrieking scream
escaping. My body shook with the force, and I collapsed, my eyes taking a prescript
ive view of the world around me. I resisted losing consciousness in my own dream, the trees
above me seeming to stare down at me as I rolled to my back, resting far under
the fair canopy so far above. I lay there, feeling as if I were falling through the air, the pain
subsiding. After a few moments, I stood, my head swimming so that the horizonís line
wavered. It only worsened as I stood, noticing that now before me stood the King of felines,
a lion, regal and imposing in his presence. I wondered to myself, was he the cause of the scream
that I had heard earlier, whatever it had been. Had this magnificent King caused such pain,
even death? I did not know, I dared not ask, but I saw he wore a collar that bore the same script
that adorned the trees, and I reached forward. Was he bound here, trapped, held her under
the canopy by some spell? As I moved my hand, I heard rustling, and looked to the original tree.
This tree had moved, by some wind or unseen force, and I could feel the King stir, some line
had been crossed. Underneath, growing in the earth, something was changing, a scream
building once more. The script was over, and I awoke before the pain could come.
::March 5, 2003 12:25 PM