Forums Poetry Corner Perhaps a dream or something else

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        Perhaps a dream or something else
        I awoke to a lovely voice singing Momma don’t cry for me,
        I have seen the tear drops fall down your face
        Love you Mom, Tears of Joy also run down our Face
        To my surprise this is something I had often told my daughter.
        Even when I was sad. Now I see her picture looking back at me.
        I watched myself sleeping, and awoke to a very crowded room
        Lots of bright colors, in the fabrics all around.
        I also noticed a pile of pizza boxes, and custard pudding in big bowls.
        My sisters were there, I remember thinking what a mess these beautiful things,
        Just piled up everywhere, so unorganized.
        As I put my hands to feel the fabrics I found a child sleeping, knowing I was dreaming and still playing a long. I knew this child not from my world but in this dream it appeared as if I knew him, ironically enough the act affirmed that he was a neighbor’s son.
        As it was late his mother came looking for him. Very impressive looking woman she seemed to have it all together.
        Than I entered a kitchen and though to myself my god, how can this be, there isn’t even room to begin washing the dishes.
        Suddenly I see once again my 3 sisters working together to clear things out.
        I stood amazed the things got organized the beauty of everything in its proper place.
        I asked how did you guys do this in such a sort period and they replied Monica helped.
        Still being aware that this is a dream, my Monica is gone. Then this eight or nine year old little who lives upstairs shows up in a joyful and happy disposition. I took her and sat her on a stool still thinking it may still be my little girl. My heart jumped such beauty to the eye, she was Asian, much like my daughter but not her face just her spirit.
        I continued to help organize and suddenly I though of my mother, no sooner did she show up. She looked beautiful and happy. Again I question this is a dream and mom won’t have kept this house looking like this. I have always admired how strong she is, how organized and her taste for beauty. But unlike her this house, her home was not to her standards.
        I come across some dishes and find them priceless; I decide to put them on the glass display case. Despite many other beautiful dishes that she collected, there were about 20 or so bottles of the same cologne. Which in my mind didn’t belong there, thinking to myself why she has invested so much money on this man, her new boyfriend, again I mention this is a dream. As I lifted them up one thing came to mind it’s here choice.
        This may not be anything to do with my recovery, but I can’t help but to wonder.
        As there is many cluttered thoughts and feelings that I need to be developed in my recovery. I can see and understand the connection between this dream and my reality.

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